The Last of the Mohicans
A Narrative of 1757
by James Fenimore Cooper
Styled by LimpidSoft
Contents
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 3
67
CHAPTER 4
93
CHAPTER 5
119
CHAPTER 6
146
1
CHAPTER 1
12
CHAPTER 2
42
i
CHAPTER 7
180
CHAPTER 17
523
CHAPTER 8
214
CHAPTER 18
566
CHAPTER 9
243
CHAPTER 19
600
CHAPTER 10
269
CHAPTER 20
637
CHAPTER 11
304
CHAPTER 21
672
CHAPTER 12
341
CHAPTER 22
703
CHAPTER 13
383
CHAPTER 23
737
CHAPTER 14
415
CHAPTER 24
776
CHAPTER 15
455
CHAPTER 25
812
CHAPTER 16
489
CHAPTER 26
851
ii
CHAPTER 27
883
CHAPTER 31
1018
CHAPTER 28
913
CHAPTER 32
1043
CHAPTER 29
944
CHAPTER 33
1087
CHAPTER 30
983
iii
The present document was derived from text provided by Project
Gutenberg (document 940) which
was made available free of charge.
This document is also free of
charge.
iv
INTRODUCTION
IT IS BELIEVED that the scene of this tale, and
most of the information necessary to understand its allusions, are rendered sufficiently obvious to the reader in the text itself, or in the accompanying notes. Still there is so much obscurity in the Indian traditions, and so much confusion in the Indian names, as to render some
1
INTRODUCTION
explanation useful.
Few men exhibit greater diversity, or, if we
may so express it, greater antithesis of character, than the native warrior of North America.
In war, he is daring, boastful, cunning, ruthless, self-denying, and self-devoted; in peace,
just, generous, hospitable, revengeful, superstitious, modest, and commonly chaste. These
are qualities, it is true, which do not distinguish
all alike; but they are so far the predominating
traits of these remarkable people as to be characteristic.
It is generally believed that the Aborigines of
the American continent have an Asiatic origin.
There are many physical as well as moral facts
which corroborate this opinion, and some few
that would seem to weigh against it.
The color of the Indian, the writer believes, is
2
INTRODUCTION
peculiar to himself, and while his cheek-bones
have a very striking indication of a Tartar origin, his eyes have not. Climate may have had
great influence on the former, but it is difficult
to see how it can have produced the substantial
difference which exists in the latter. The imagery of the Indian, both in his poetry and in
his oratory, is oriental; chastened, and perhaps
improved, by the limited range of his practical
knowledge. He draws his metaphors from the
clouds, the seasons, the birds, the beasts, and
the vegetable world. In this, perhaps, he does
no more than any other energetic and imaginative race would do, being compelled to set
bounds to fancy by experience; but the North
American Indian clothes his ideas in a dress
which is different from that of the African, and
is oriental in itself. His language has the richness and sententious fullness of the Chinese.
3
INTRODUCTION
He will express a phrase in a word, and he will
qualify the meaning of an entire sentence by a
syllable; he will even convey different significations by the simplest inflections of the voice.
Philologists have said that there are but two
or three languages, properly speaking, among
all the numerous tribes which formerly occupied the country that now composes the
United States. They ascribe the known difficulty one people have to understand another
to corruptions and dialects. The writer remembers to have been present at an interview between two chiefs of the Great Prairies west
of the Mississippi, and when an interpreter
was in attendance who spoke both their languages. The warriors appeared to be on the
most friendly terms, and seemingly conversed
much together; yet, according to the account of
4
INTRODUCTION
the interpreter, each was absolutely ignorant of
what the other said. They were of hostile tribes,
brought together by the influence of the American government; and it is worthy of remark,
that a common policy led them both to adopt
the same subject. They mutually exhorted each
other to be of use in the event of the chances
of war throwing either of the parties into the
hands of his enemies. Whatever may be the
truth, as respects the root and the genius of the
Indian tongues, it is quite certain they are now
so distinct in their words as to possess most of
the disadvantages of strange languages; hence
much of the embarrassment that has arisen in
learning their histories, and most of the uncertainty which exists in their traditions.
Like nations of higher pretensions, the
American Indian gives a very different account
5
INTRODUCTION
of his own tribe or race from that which is given
by other people. He is much addicted to overestimating his own perfections, and to undervaluing those of his rival or his enemy; a trait
which may possibly be thought corroborative
of the Mosaic account of the creation.
The whites have assisted greatly in rendering the traditions of the Aborigines more
obscure by their own manner of corrupting
names. Thus, the term used in the title of this
book has undergone the changes of Mahicanni,
Mohicans, and Mohegans; the latter being the
word commonly used by the whites. When it
is remembered that the Dutch (who first settled New York), the English, and the French,
all gave appellations to the tribes that dwelt
within the country which is the scene of this
story, and that the Indians not only gave differ-
6
INTRODUCTION
ent names to their enemies, but frequently to
themselves, the cause of the confusion will be
understood.
In these pages, Lenni-Lenape, Lenope,
Delawares, Wapanachki, and Mohicans, all
mean the same people, or tribes of the same
stock. The Mengwe, the Maquas, the Mingoes,
and the Iroquois, though not all strictly the
same, are identified frequently by the speakers,
being politically confederated and opposed to
those just named. Mingo was a term of peculiar reproach, as were Mengwe and Maqua in a
less degree.
The Mohicans were the possessors of the
country first occupied by the Europeans in this
portion of the continent. They were, consequently, the first dispossessed; and the seemingly inevitable fate of all these people, who
7
INTRODUCTION
disappear before the advances, or it might be
termed the inroads, of civilization, as the verdure of their native forests falls before the nipping frosts, is represented as having already befallen them. There is sufficient historical truth
in the picture to justify the use that has been
made of it.
In point of fact, the country which is the
scene of the following tale has undergone as
little change, since the historical events alluded to had place, as almost any other district of equal extent within the whole limits
of the United States. There are fashionable
and well-attended watering-places at and near
the spring where Hawkeye halted to drink,
and roads traverse the forests where he and
his friends were compelled to journey without
even a path. Glen’s has a large village; and
8
INTRODUCTION
while William Henry, and even a fortress of
later date, are only to be traced as ruins, there
is another village on the shores of the Horican.
But, beyond this, the enterprise and energy of a
people who have done so much in other places
have done little here. The whole of that wilderness, in which the latter incidents of the legend
occurred, is nearly a wilderness still, though
the red man has entirely deserted this part of
the state. Of all the tribes named in these pages,
there exist only a few half-civilized beings of
the Oneidas, on the reservations of their people in New York. The rest have disappeared,
either from the regions in which their fathers
dwelt, or altogether from the earth.
There is one point on which we would
wish to say a word before closing this preface.
Hawkeye calls the Lac du Saint Sacrement, the
9
INTRODUCTION
“Horican.” As we believe this to be an appropriation of the name that has its origin with
ourselves, the time has arrived, perhaps, when
the fact should be frankly admitted. While
writing this book, fully a quarter of a century
since, it occurred to us that the French name
of this lake was too complicated, the American
too commonplace, and the Indian too unpronounceable, for either to be used familiarly in a
work of fiction. Looking over an ancient map,
it was ascertained that a tribe of Indians, called
“Les Horicans” by the French, existed in the
neighborhood of this beautiful sheet of water.
As every word uttered by Natty Bumppo was
not to be received as rigid truth, we took the
liberty of putting the “Horican” into his mouth,
as the substitute for “Lake George.” The name
has appeared to find favor, and all things considered, it may possibly be quite as well to let
10
INTRODUCTION
it stand, instead of going back to the House of
Hanover for the appellation of our finest sheet
of water. We relieve our conscience by the confession, at all events leaving it to exercise its authority as it may see fit.
11
CHAPTER 1
“Mine ear is open, and my heart
prepared:
The worst is wordly loss thou canst
unfold:–
Say, is my kingdom lost?”
–Shakespeare
12
CHAPTER 1
IT WAS A feature peculiar to the colonial wars
of North America, that the toils and dangers
of the wilderness were to be encountered before the adverse hosts could meet. A wide and
apparently an impervious boundary of forests
severed the possessions of the hostile provinces
of France and England. The hardy colonist,
and the trained European who fought at his
side, frequently expended months in struggling against the rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the mountains, in
quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage
in a more martial conflict. But, emulating the
patience and self-denial of the practiced native
warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty; and it would seem that, in time, there
was no recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads of those who had pledged
13
CHAPTER 1
their blood to satiate their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant
monarchs of Europe.
Perhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate frontiers can furnish a
livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness of
the savage warfare of those periods than the
country which lies between the head waters of
the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.
The facilities which nature had there offered
to the march of the combatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of
the Champlain stretched from the frontiers of
Canada, deep within the borders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural passage across half the distance that the
French were compelled to master in order to
strike their enemies. Near its southern termi-
14
CHAPTER 1
nation, it received the contributions of another
lake, whose waters were so limpid as to have
been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries to perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for it the title of lake “du
Saint Sacrement.” The less zealous English
thought they conferred a sufficient honor on its
unsullied fountains, when they bestowed the
name of their reigning prince, the second of the
house of Hanover. The two united to rob the
untutored possessors of its wooded scenery of
their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of “Horican.”1
1 As each nation of the Indians had its language or
its dialect, they usually gave different names to the same
places, though nearly all of their appellations were descriptive of the object. Thus a literal translation of the
name of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the tribe
that dwelt on its banks, would be “The Tail of the Lake.”
15
CHAPTER 1
Winding its way among countless islands,
and imbedded in mountains, the “holy lake”
extended a dozen leagues still further to the
south. With the high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of the water,
commenced a portage of as many miles, which
conducted the adventurer to the banks of the
Hudson, at a point where, with the usual obstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were
then termed in the language of the country, the
river became navigable to the tide.
While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of
annoyance, the restless enterprise of the French
even attempted the distant and difficult gorges
of the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined
Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now, indeed, legally,
called, forms a sort of tail to Lake Champlain, when
viewed on the map. Hence, the name.
16
CHAPTER 1
that their proverbial acuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we
have just described. It became, emphatically,
the bloody arena, in which most of the battles
for the mastery of the colonies were contested.
Forts were erected at the different points that
commanded the facilities of the route, and were
taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory alighted on the hostile banners. While
the husbandman shrank back from the dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the
more ancient settlements, armies larger than
those that had often disposed of the scepters of
the mother countries, were seen to bury themselves in these forests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, that were haggard with care or dejected by defeat. Though
the arts of peace were unknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its shades
17
CHAPTER 1
and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes of its mountains threw back
the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of many
a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by
them, in the noontide of his spirits, to slumber
in a long night of forgetfulness.
It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed
that the incidents we shall attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war which
England and France last waged for the possession of a country that neither was destined to
retain.
The imbecility of her military leaders abroad,
and the fatal want of energy in her councils
at home, had lowered the character of Great
Britain from the proud elevation on which
it had been placed by the talents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen.
18
CHAPTER 1
No longer dreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence of selfrespect. In this mortifying abasement, the
colonists, though innocent of her imbecility,
and too humble to be the agents of her blunders, were but the natural participators. They
had recently seen a chosen army from that
country, which, reverencing as a mother, they
had blindly believed invincible–an army led by
a chief who had been selected from a crowd
of trained warriors, for his rare military endowments, disgracefully routed by a handful
of French and Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the coolness and spirit of a Virginian boy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steady influence of moral
truth, to the uttermost confines of Christen-
19
CHAPTER 1
dom.2 A wide frontier had been laid naked
by this unexpected disaster, and more substantial evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful
and imaginary dangers. The alarmed colonists
believed that the yells of the savages mingled
with every fitful gust of wind that issued from
the interminable forests of the west. The terrific
2 Washington, who, after uselessly admonishing the
European general of the danger into which he was heedlessly running, saved the remnants of the British army,
on this occasion, by his decision and courage. The reputation earned by Washington in this battle was the principal cause of his being selected to command the American armies at a later day. It is a circumstance worthy of observation, that while all America rang with his
well-merited reputation, his name does not occur in any
European account of the battle; at least the author has
searched for it without success. In this manner does the
mother country absorb even the fame, under that system of rule.
20
CHAPTER 1
character of their merciless enemies increased
immeasurably the natural horrors of warfare.
Numberless recent massacres were still vivid
in their recollections; nor was there any ear in
the provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in
with avidity the narrative of some fearful tale
of midnight murder, in which the natives of
the forests were the principal and barbarous actors. As the credulous and excited traveler related the hazardous chances of the wilderness,
the blood of the timid curdled with terror, and
mothers cast anxious glances even at those children which slumbered within the security of
the largest towns. In short, the magnifying influence of fear began to set at naught the calculations of reason, and to render those who
should have remembered their manhood, the
slaves of the basest passions. Even the most
confident and the stoutest hearts began to think
21
CHAPTER 1
the issue of the contest was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was hourly increasing
in numbers, who thought they foresaw all the
possessions of the English crown in America
subdued by their Christian foes, or laid waste
by the inroads of their relentless allies.
When, therefore, intelligence was received at
the fort which covered the southern termination of the portage between the Hudson and
the lakes, that Montcalm had been seen moving
up the Champlain, with an army “numerous as
the leaves on the trees,” its truth was admitted with more of the craven reluctance of fear
than with the stern joy that a warrior should
feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his
blow. The news had been brought, toward the
decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian
runner, who also bore an urgent request from
22
CHAPTER 1
Munro, the commander of a work on the shore
of the “holy lake,” for a speedy and powerful
reinforcement. It has already been mentioned
that the distance between these two posts was
less than five leagues. The rude path, which
originally formed their line of communication,
had been widened for the passage of wagons;
so that the distance which had been traveled
by the son of the forest in two hours, might
easily be effected by a detachment of troops,
with their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting of a summer sun. The loyal
servants of the British crown had given to one
of these forest-fastnesses the name of William
Henry, and to the other that of Fort Edward,
calling each after a favorite prince of the reigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named
held the first, with a regiment of regulars and a
few provincials; a force really by far too small
23
CHAPTER 1
to make head against the formidable power
that Montcalm was leading to the foot of his
earthen mounds. At the latter, however, lay
General Webb, who commanded the armies of
the king in the northern provinces, with a body
of more than five thousand men. By uniting
the several detachments of his command, this
officer might have arrayed nearly double that
number of combatants against the enterprising
Frenchman, who had ventured so far from his
reinforcements, with an army but little superior in numbers.
But under the influence of their degraded
fortunes, both officers and men appeared better disposed to await the approach of their
formidable antagonists, within their works,
than to resist the progress of their march, by
emulating the successful example of the French
24
CHAPTER 1
at Fort du Quesne, and striking a blow on their
advance.
After the first surprise of the intelligence had
a little abated, a rumor was spread through the
entrenched camp, which stretched along the
margin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of the fort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to
depart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the
post at the northern extremity of the portage.
That which at first was only rumor, soon became certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the commander-in-chief to the several
corps he had selected for this service, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubts as
to the intention of Webb now vanished, and an
hour or two of hurried footsteps and anxious
faces succeeded. The novice in the military
25
CHAPTER 1
art flew from point to point, retarding his own
preparations by the excess of his violent and
somewhat distempered zeal; while the more
practiced veteran made his arrangements with
a deliberation that scorned every appearance
of haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently betrayed that he had no
very strong professional relish for the, as yet,
untried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness.
At length the sun set in a flood of glory, behind
the distant western hills, and as darkness drew
its veil around the secluded spot the sounds
of preparation diminished; the last light finally
disappeared from the log cabin of some officer; the trees cast their deeper shadows over
the mounds and the rippling stream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that
which reigned in the vast forest by which it was
environed.
26
CHAPTER 1
According to the orders of the preceding
night, the heavy sleep of the army was broken
by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling echoes were heard issuing, on the damp
morning air, out of every vista of the woods,
just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines
of some tall pines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless eastern
sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest soldier arousing from his lair
to witness the departure of his comrades, and
to share in the excitement and incidents of the
hour. The simple array of the chosen band was
soon completed. While the regular and trained
hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right of the line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position on its
left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy. The scouts departed; strong guards
27
CHAPTER 1
preceded and followed the lumbering vehicles
that bore the baggage; and before the gray light
of the morning was mellowed by the rays of the
sun, the main body of the combatants wheeled
into column, and left the encampment with a
show of high military bearing, that served to
drown the slumbering apprehensions of many
a novice, who was now about to make his first
essay in arms. While in view of their admiring
comrades, the same proud front and ordered
array was observed, until the notes of their fifes
growing fainter in distance, the forest at length
appeared to swallow up the living mass which
had slowly entered its bosom.
The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to be borne on the
breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had already disappeared in pursuit; but
28
CHAPTER 1
there still remained the signs of another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and
accommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds, who were known to
guard the person of the English general. At this
spot were gathered some half dozen horses,
caparisoned in a manner which showed that
two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females, of a rank that it was not usual
to meet so far in the wilds of the country. A
third wore trappings and arms of an officer
of the staff; while the rest, from the plainness
of the housings, and the traveling mails with
which they were encumbered, were evidently
fitted for the reception of as many menials, who
were, seemingly, already waiting the pleasure
of those they served. At a respectful distance
from this unusual show, were gathered divers
groups of curious idlers; some admiring the
29
CHAPTER 1
blood and bone of the high-mettled military
charger, and others gazing at the preparations,
with the dull wonder of vulgar curiosity. There
was one man, however, who, by his countenance and actions, formed a marked exception
to those who composed the latter class of spectators, being neither idle, nor seemingly very
ignorant.
The person of this individual was to the
last degree ungainly, without being in any
particular manner deformed. He had all the
bones and joints of other men, without any
of their proportions. Erect, his stature surpassed that of his fellows; though seated, he
appeared reduced within the ordinary limits of
the race. The same contrariety in his members
seemed to exist throughout the whole man.
His head was large; his shoulders narrow; his
30
CHAPTER 1
arms long and dangling; while his hands were
small, if not delicate. His legs and thighs were
thin, nearly to emaciation, but of extraordinary
length; and his knees would have been considered tremendous, had they not been outdone
by the broader foundations on which this false
superstructure of blended human orders was
so profanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the individual only served
to render his awkwardness more conspicuous.
A sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts
and low cape, exposed a long, thin neck, and
longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of the evil-disposed. His nether garment was a yellow nankeen, closely fitted to
the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by
large knots of white ribbon, a good deal sullied
by use. Clouded cotton stockings, and shoes,
on one of the latter of which was a plated spur,
31
CHAPTER 1
completed the costume of the lower extremity
of this figure, no curve or angle of which was
concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously
exhibited, through the vanity or simplicity of
its owner.
From beneath the flap of an enormous
pocket of a soiled vest of embossed silk, heavily ornamented with tarnished silver lace, projected an instrument, which, from being seen in
such martial company, might have been easily
mistaken for some mischievous and unknown
implement of war. Small as it was, this uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of
most of the Europeans in the camp, though several of the provincials were seen to handle it,
not only without fear, but with the utmost familiarity. A large, civil cocked hat, like those
worn by clergymen within the last thirty years,
32
CHAPTER 1
surmounted the whole, furnishing dignity to
a good-natured and somewhat vacant countenance, that apparently needed such artificial
aid, to support the gravity of some high and
extraordinary trust.
While the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb, the figure we
have described stalked into the center of the
domestics, freely expressing his censures or
commendations on the merits of the horses, as
by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.
“This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not
of home raising, but is from foreign lands, or
perhaps from the little island itself over the
blue water?” he said, in a voice as remarkable
for the softness and sweetness of its tones, as
was his person for its rare proportions; “I may
33
CHAPTER 1
speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I
have been down at both havens; that which is
situate at the mouth of Thames, and is named
after the capital of Old England, and that which
is called ‘Haven’, with the addition of the word
‘New’; and have seen the scows and brigantines collecting their droves, like the gathering
to the ark, being outward bound to the Island
of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and traffic
in four-footed animals; but never before have
I beheld a beast which verified the true scripture war-horse like this: ‘He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to
meet the armed men. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off,
the thunder of the captains, and the shouting’
It would seem that the stock of the horse of Israel had descended to our own time; would it
not, friend?”
34
CHAPTER 1
Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as it was delivered with
the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited
some sort of notice, he who had thus sung forth
the language of the holy book turned to the
silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed himself, and found a new and more
powerful subject of admiration in the object
that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on
the still, upright, and rigid form of the “Indian runner,” who had borne to the camp the
unwelcome tidings of the preceding evening.
Although in a state of perfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristic stoicism, the excitement and bustle around him,
there was a sullen fierceness mingled with the
quiet of the savage, that was likely to arrest the
attention of much more experienced eyes than
those which now scanned him, in unconcealed
35
CHAPTER 1
amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk and knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether that of a warrior. On
the contrary, there was an air of neglect about
his person, like that which might have proceeded from great and recent exertion, which
he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colors of the war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce countenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage
and repulsive than if art had attempted an effect which had been thus produced by chance.
His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery star
amid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its
state of native wildness. For a single instant
his searching and yet wary glance met the wondering look of the other, and then changing its
direction, partly in cunning, and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the
36
CHAPTER 1
distant air.
It is impossible to say what unlooked-for
remark this short and silent communication,
between two such singular men, might have
elicited from the white man, had not his active
curiosity been again drawn to other objects. A
general movement among the domestics, and
a low sound of gentle voices, announced the
approach of those whose presence alone was
wanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The
simple admirer of the war-horse instantly fell
back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, that
was unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage
of the camp nigh by; where, leaning with one
elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for a saddle, he became a spectator of the
departure, while a foal was quietly making its
morning repast, on the opposite side of the
37
CHAPTER 1
same animal.
A young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds two females, who, as it
was apparent by their dresses, were prepared
to encounter the fatigues of a journey in the
woods. One, and she was the more juvenile
in her appearance, though both were young,
permitted glimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue eyes, to
be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blow aside the green veil which descended low from her beaver.
The flush which still lingered above the
pines in the western sky was not more bright
nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor
was the opening day more cheering than the
animated smile which she bestowed on the
youth, as he assisted her into the saddle. The
38
CHAPTER 1
other, who appeared to share equally in the
attention of the young officer, concealed her
charms from the gaze of the soldiery with a
care that seemed better fitted to the experience
of four or five additional years. It could be
seen, however, that her person, though molded
with the same exquisite proportions, of which
none of the graces were lost by the traveling
dress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of her companion.
No sooner were these females seated, than
their attendant sprang lightly into the saddle
of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed
to Webb, who in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin and turning their horses’ heads, they proceeded at a
slow amble, followed by their train, toward the
northern entrance of the encampment. As they
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CHAPTER 1
traversed that short distance, not a voice was
heard among them; but a slight exclamation
proceeded from the younger of the females,
as the Indian runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and led the way along the military road
in her front. Though this sudden and startling
movement of the Indian produced no sound
from the other, in the surprise her veil also
was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed
an indescribable look of pity, admiration, and
horror, as her dark eye followed the easy motions of the savage. The tresses of this lady
were shining and black, like the plumage of
the raven. Her complexion was not brown,
but it rather appeared charged with the color
of the rich blood, that seemed ready to burst
its bounds. And yet there was neither coarseness nor want of shadowing in a countenance
that was exquisitely regular, and dignified and
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CHAPTER 1
surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in pity
at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of teeth that would have
shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the
veil, she bowed her face, and rode in silence,
like one whose thoughts were abstracted from
the scene around her.
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“Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola!”
–Shakespeare
WHILE ONE OF the lovely beings we have so
cursorily presented to the reader was thus lost
in thought, the other quickly recovered from
the alarm which induced the exclamation, and,
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laughing at her own weakness, she inquired of
the youth who rode by her side:
“Are such specters frequent in the woods,
Heyward, or is this sight an especial entertainment ordered on our behalf? If the latter, gratitude must close our mouths; but if the former,
both Cora and I shall have need to draw largely
on that stock of hereditary courage which we
boast, even before we are made to encounter
the redoubtable Montcalm.”
“Yon Indian is a ‘runner’ of the army; and,
after the fashion of his people, he may be accounted a hero,” returned the officer. “He has
volunteered to guide us to the lake, by a path
but little known, sooner than if we followed the
tardy movements of the column; and, by consequence, more agreeably.”
“I like him not,” said the lady, shuddering,
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partly in assumed, yet more in real terror. “You
know him, Duncan, or you would not trust
yourself so freely to his keeping?”
“Say, rather, Alice, that I would not trust you.
I do know him, or he would not have my confidence, and least of all at this moment. He is
said to be a Canadian too; and yet he served
with our friends the Mohawks, who, as you
know, are one of the six allied nations. He was
brought among us, as I have heard, by some
strange accident in which your father was interested, and in which the savage was rigidly
dealt by; but I forget the idle tale, it is enough,
that he is now our friend.”
“If he has been my father’s enemy, I like
him still less!” exclaimed the now really anxious girl. “Will you not speak to him, Major
Heyward, that I may hear his tones? Fool-
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ish though it may be, you have often heard
me avow my faith in the tones of the human
voice!”
“It would be in vain; and answered, most
probably, by an ejaculation. Though he may
understand it, he affects, like most of his people, to be ignorant of the English; and least of
all will he condescend to speak it, now that the
war demands the utmost exercise of his dignity.
But he stops; the private path by which we are
to journey is, doubtless, at hand.”
The conjecture of Major Heyward was true.
When they reached the spot where the Indian
stood, pointing into the thicket that fringed the
military road; a narrow and blind path, which
might, with some little inconvenience, receive
one person at a time, became visible.
“Here, then, lies our way,” said the young
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man, in a low voice. “Manifest no distrust, or
you may invite the danger you appear to apprehend.”
“Cora, what think you?” asked the reluctant
fair one. “If we journey with the troops, though
we may find their presence irksome, shall we
not feel better assurance of our safety?”
“Being little accustomed to the practices of
the savages, Alice, you mistake the place of
real danger,” said Heyward. “If enemies have
reached the portage at all, a thing by no means
probable, as our scouts are abroad, they will
surely be found skirting the column, where
scalps abound the most. The route of the detachment is known, while ours, having been
determined within the hour, must still be secret.”
“Should we distrust the man because his
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manners are not our manners, and that his skin
is dark?” coldly asked Cora.
Alice hesitated no longer; but giving her
Narrangansett a smart cut of the whip, she
was the first to dash aside the slight branches
of the bushes, and to follow the runner along
the dark and tangled pathway. The young
man regarded the last speaker in open admiration, and even permitted her fairer, though certainly not more beautiful companion, to proceed unattended, while he sedulously opened
the way himself for the passage of her who has
been called Cora. It would seem that the domestics had been previously instructed; for, instead of penetrating the thicket, they followed
the route of the column; a measure which Heyward stated had been dictated by the sagacity
of their guide, in order to diminish the marks
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of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian savages
should be lurking so far in advance of their
army. For many minutes the intricacy of the
route admitted of no further dialogue; after
which they emerged from the broad border of
underbrush which grew along the line of the
highway, and entered under the high but dark
arches of the forest. Here their progress was
less interrupted; and the instant the guide perceived that the females could command their
steeds, he moved on, at a pace between a trot
and a walk, and at a rate which kept the surefooted and peculiar animals they rode at a fast
yet easy amble. The youth had turned to speak
to the dark-eyed Cora, when the distant sound
of horses hoofs, clattering over the roots of the
broken way in his rear, caused him to check
his charger; and, as his companions drew their
reins at the same instant, the whole party came
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to a halt, in order to obtain an explanation of
the unlooked-for interruption.3
In a few moments a colt was seen gliding,
like a fallow deer, among the straight trunks of
the pines; and, in another instant, the person of
the ungainly man, described in the preceding
chapter, came into view, with as much rapidity as he could excite his meager beast to en3 In the state of Rhode Island there is a bay called
Narragansett, so named after a powerful tribe of Indians, which formerly dwelt on its banks. Accident, or one
of those unaccountable freaks which nature sometimes
plays in the animal world, gave rise to a breed of horses
which were once well known in America, and distinguished by their habit of pacing. Horses of this race
were, and are still, in much request as saddle horses, on
account of their hardiness and the ease of their movements. As they were also sure of foot, the Narragansetts
were greatly sought for by females who were obliged to
travel over the roots and holes in the “new countries.”
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CHAPTER 2
dure without coming to an open rupture. Until
now this personage had escaped the observation of the travelers. If he possessed the power
to arrest any wandering eye when exhibiting
the glories of his altitude on foot, his equestrian
graces were still more likely to attract attention.
Notwithstanding a constant application of
his one armed heel to the flanks of the mare,
the most confirmed gait that he could establish was a Canterbury gallop with the hind
legs, in which those more forward assisted for
doubtful moments, though generally content
to maintain a loping trot. Perhaps the rapidity
of the changes from one of these paces to the
other created an optical illusion, which might
thus magnify the powers of the beast; for it
is certain that Heyward, who possessed a true
eye for the merits of a horse, was unable, with
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CHAPTER 2
his utmost ingenuity, to decide by what sort
of movement his pursuer worked his sinuous
way on his footsteps with such persevering
hardihood.
The industry and movements of the rider
were not less remarkable than those of the ridden. At each change in the evolutions of the latter, the former raised his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in this manner, by the undue
elongation of his legs, such sudden growths
and diminishings of the stature, as baffled every conjecture that might be made as to his dimensions. If to this be added the fact that, in
consequence of the ex parte application of the
spur, one side of the mare appeared to journey
faster than the other; and that the aggrieved
flank was resolutely indicated by unremitted
flourishes of a bushy tail, we finish the picture
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of both horse and man.
The frown which had gathered around the
handsome, open, and manly brow of Heyward,
gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a
slight smile, as he regarded the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to control her
merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful eye
of Cora lighted with a humor that it would
seem, the habit, rather than the nature, of its
mistress repressed.
“Seek you any here?” demanded Heyward,
when the other had arrived sufficiently nigh to
abate his speed; “I trust you are no messenger
of evil tidings?”
“Even so,” replied the stranger, making diligent use of his triangular castor, to produce a
circulation in the close air of the woods, and
leaving his hearers in doubt to which of the
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young man’s questions he responded; when,
however, he had cooled his face, and recovered his breath, he continued, “I hear you are
riding to William Henry; as I am journeying
thitherward myself, I concluded good company would seem consistent to the wishes of
both parties.”
“You appear to possess the privilege of a
casting vote,” returned Heyward; “we are
three, while you have consulted no one but
yourself.”
“Even so. The first point to be obtained is to
know one’s own mind. Once sure of that, and
where women are concerned it is not easy, the
next is, to act up to the decision. I have endeavored to do both, and here I am.”
“If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken your route,” said Heyward, haughtily;
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“the highway thither is at least half a mile behind you.”
“Even so,” returned the stranger, nothing
daunted by this cold reception; “I have tarried
at ‘Edward’ a week, and I should be dumb not
to have inquired the road I was to journey; and
if dumb there would be an end to my calling.”
After simpering in a small way, like one whose
modesty prohibited a more open expression of
his admiration of a witticism that was perfectly
unintelligible to his hearers, he continued, “It
is not prudent for any one of my profession to
be too familiar with those he has to instruct; for
which reason I follow not the line of the army;
besides which, I conclude that a gentleman of
your character has the best judgment in matters
of wayfaring; I have, therefore, decided to join
company, in order that the ride may be made
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agreeable, and partake of social communion.”
“A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!”
exclaimed Heyward, undecided whether to
give vent to his growing anger, or to laugh in
the other’s face. “But you speak of instruction,
and of a profession; are you an adjunct to the
provincial corps, as a master of the noble science of defense and offense; or, perhaps, you
are one who draws lines and angles, under the
pretense of expounding the mathematics?”
The stranger regarded his interrogator a moment in wonder; and then, losing every mark
of self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn
humility, he answered:
“Of offense, I hope there is none, to either
party: of defense, I make none–by God’s good
mercy, having committed no palpable sin since
last entreating his pardoning grace. I under-
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stand not your allusions about lines and angles;
and I leave expounding to those who have been
called and set apart for that holy office. I lay
claim to no higher gift than a small insight into
the glorious art of petitioning and thanksgiving, as practiced in psalmody.”
“The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of
Apollo,” cried the amused Alice, “and I take
him under my own especial protection. Nay,
throw aside that frown, Heyward, and in pity
to my longing ears, suffer him to journey in
our train. Besides,” she added, in a low and
hurried voice, casting a glance at the distant
Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps of
their silent, but sullen guide, “it may be a
friend added to our strength, in time of need.”
“Think you, Alice, that I would trust those
I love by this secret path, did I imagine such
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need could happen?”
“Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this
strange man amuses me; and if he ‘hath music
in his soul’, let us not churlishly reject his company.” She pointed persuasively along the path
with her riding whip, while their eyes met in a
look which the young man lingered a moment
to prolong; then, yielding to her gentle influence, he clapped his spurs into his charger, and
in a few bounds was again at the side of Cora.
“I am glad to encounter thee, friend,” continued the maiden, waving her hand to the
stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narragansett to renew its amble. “Partial relatives
have almost persuaded me that I am not entirely worthless in a duet myself; and we may
enliven our wayfaring by indulging in our favorite pursuit. It might be of signal advantage
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to one, ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and
experience of a master in the art.”
“It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the
body to indulge in psalmody, in befitting seasons,” returned the master of song, unhesitatingly complying with her intimation to follow;
“and nothing would relieve the mind more
than such a consoling communion. But four
parts are altogether necessary to the perfection
of melody. You have all the manifestations of a
soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid, carry
a full tenor to the highest letter; but we lack
counter and bass! Yon officer of the king, who
hesitated to admit me to his company, might fill
the latter, if one may judge from the intonations
of his voice in common dialogue.”
“Judge not too rashly from hasty and deceptive appearances,” said the lady, smiling;
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“though Major Heyward can assume such
deep notes on occasion, believe me, his natural
tones are better fitted for a mellow tenor than
the bass you heard.”
“Is he, then, much practiced in the art of
psalmody?” demanded her simple companion.
Alice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in suppressing her merriment, ere she
answered:
“I apprehend that he is rather addicted to
profane song. The chances of a soldier’s life are
but little fitted for the encouragement of more
sober inclinations.”
“Man’s voice is given to him, like his other
talents, to be used, and not to be abused. None
can say they have ever known me to neglect
my gifts! I am thankful that, though my boyhood may be said to have been set apart, like
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the youth of the royal David, for the purposes
of music, no syllable of rude verse has ever profaned my lips.”
“You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred song?”
“Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all
other language, so does the psalmody that has
been fitted to them by the divines and sages
of the land, surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I
may say that I utter nothing but the thoughts
and the wishes of the King of Israel himself;
for though the times may call for some slight
changes, yet does this version which we use in
the colonies of New England so much exceed
all other versions, that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spiritual simplicity, it approacheth, as near as may be, to the great work of
the inspired writer. I never abide in any place,
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sleeping or waking, without an example of this
gifted work. ‘Tis the six-and-twentieth edition,
promulgated at Boston, Anno Domini 1744;
and is entitled, ‘The Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments;
faithfully translated into English Metre, for the
Use, Edification, and Comfort of the Saints,
in Public and Private, especially in New England’.”
During this eulogium on the rare production of his native poets, the stranger had drawn
the book from his pocket, and fitting a pair of
iron-rimmed spectacles to his nose, opened the
volume with a care and veneration suited to
its sacred purposes. Then, without circumlocution or apology, first pronounced the word
“Standish,” and placing the unknown engine,
already described, to his mouth, from which he
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drew a high, shrill sound, that was followed by
an octave below, from his own voice, he commenced singing the following words, in full,
sweet, and melodious tones, that set the music,
the poetry, and even the uneasy motion of his
ill-trained beast at defiance; “How good it is,
O see, And how it pleaseth well, Together e’en
in unity, For brethren so to dwell. It’s like the
choice ointment, From the head to the beard
did go; Down Aaron’s head, that downward
went His garment’s skirts unto.”
The delivery of these skillful rhymes was accompanied, on the part of the stranger, by a
regular rise and fall of his right hand, which
terminated at the descent, by suffering the fingers to dwell a moment on the leaves of the little volume; and on the ascent, by such a flourish of the member as none but the initiated may
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ever hope to imitate. It would seem long practice had rendered this manual accompaniment
necessary; for it did not cease until the preposition which the poet had selected for the close of
his verse had been duly delivered like a word
of two syllables.
Such an innovation on the silence and retirement of the forest could not fail to enlist the
ears of those who journeyed at so short a distance in advance. The Indian muttered a few
words in broken English to Heyward, who, in
his turn, spoke to the stranger; at once interrupting, and, for the time, closing his musical
efforts.
“Though we are not in danger, common prudence would teach us to journey through this
wilderness in as quiet a manner as possible.
You will then, pardon me, Alice, should I di-
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minish your enjoyments, by requesting this
gentleman to postpone his chant until a safer
opportunity.”
“You will diminish them, indeed,” returned
the arch girl; “for never did I hear a more unworthy conjunction of execution and language
than that to which I have been listening; and
I was far gone in a learned inquiry into the
causes of such an unfitness between sound and
sense, when you broke the charm of my musings by that bass of yours, Duncan!”
“I know not what you call my bass,” said
Heyward, piqued at her remark, “but I know
that your safety, and that of Cora, is far dearer
to me than could be any orchestra of Handel’s music.” He paused and turned his head
quickly toward a thicket, and then bent his eyes
suspiciously on their guide, who continued his
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steady pace, in undisturbed gravity. The young
man smiled to himself, for he believed he had
mistaken some shining berry of the woods for
the glistening eyeballs of a prowling savage,
and he rode forward, continuing the conversation which had been interrupted by the passing
thought.
Major Heyward was mistaken only in suffering his youthful and generous pride to suppress his active watchfulness. The cavalcade
had not long passed, before the branches of
the bushes that formed the thicket were cautiously moved asunder, and a human visage, as
fiercely wild as savage art and unbridled passions could make it, peered out on the retiring
footsteps of the travelers. A gleam of exultation shot across the darkly-painted lineaments
of the inhabitant of the forest, as he traced
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the route of his intended victims, who rode
unconsciously onward, the light and graceful
forms of the females waving among the trees,
in the curvatures of their path, followed at each
bend by the manly figure of Heyward, until, finally, the shapeless person of the singing
master was concealed behind the numberless
trunks of trees, that rose, in dark lines, in the
intermediate space.
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“Before these fields were shorn and
till’d,
Full to the brim our rivers flow’d;
The melody of waters fill’d The
fresh and boundless wood;
And torrents dash’d, and rivulets
play’d,
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And fountains spouted in the
shade.”
–Bryant
LEAVING THE UNSUSPECTING Heyward
and his confiding companions to penetrate still
deeper into a forest that contained such treacherous inmates, we must use an author’s privilege, and shift the scene a few miles to the
westward of the place where we have last seen
them.
On that day, two men were lingering on the
banks of a small but rapid stream, within an
hour’s journey of the encampment of Webb,
like those who awaited the appearance of an
absent person, or the approach of some expected event. The vast canopy of woods spread
itself to the margin of the river, overhanging
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the water, and shadowing its dark current with
a deeper hue. The rays of the sun were beginning to grow less fierce, and the intense
heat of the day was lessened, as the cooler vapors of the springs and fountains rose above
their leafy beds, and rested in the atmosphere.
Still that breathing silence, which marks the
drowsy sultriness of an American landscape in
July, pervaded the secluded spot, interrupted
only by the low voices of the men, the occasional and lazy tap of a woodpecker, the discordant cry of some gaudy jay, or a swelling
on the ear, from the dull roar of a distant waterfall. These feeble and broken sounds were,
however, too familiar to the foresters to draw
their attention from the more interesting matter of their dialogue. While one of these loiterers showed the red skin and wild accouterments of a native of the woods, the other exhib-
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ited, through the mask of his rude and nearly
savage equipments, the brighter, though sunburned and long-faced complexion of one who
might claim descent from a European parentage. The former was seated on the end of
a mossy log, in a posture that permitted him
to heighten the effect of his earnest language,
by the calm but expressive gestures of an Indian engaged in debate. His body, which was
nearly naked, presented a terrific emblem of
death, drawn in intermingled colors of white
and black. His closely-shaved head, on which
no other hair than the well-known and chivalrous scalping tuft4 was preserved, was without
4 The North American warrior caused the hair to be
plucked from his whole body; a small tuft was left on
the crown of his head, in order that his enemy might
avail himself of it, in wrenching off the scalp in the event
of his fall. The scalp was the only admissible trophy
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ornament of any kind, with the exception of a
solitary eagle’s plume, that crossed his crown,
and depended over the left shoulder. A tomahawk and scalping knife, of English manufacture, were in his girdle; while a short military rifle, of that sort with which the policy of
the whites armed their savage allies, lay carelessly across his bare and sinewy knee. The
expanded chest, full formed limbs, and grave
countenance of this warrior, would denote that
he had reached the vigor of his days, though no
symptoms of decay appeared to have yet weakened his manhood.
The frame of the white man, judging by such
of victory. Thus, it was deemed more important to obtain the scalp than to kill the man. Some tribes lay great
stress on the honor of striking a dead body. These practices have nearly disappeared among the Indians of the
Atlantic states.
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parts as were not concealed by his clothes,
was like that of one who had known hardships and exertion from his earliest youth. His
person, though muscular, was rather attenuated than full; but every nerve and muscle appeared strung and indurated by unremitted exposure and toil. He wore a hunting shirt5 of
forest-green, fringed with faded yellow, and a
summer cap of skins which had been shorn of
their fur. He also bore a knife in a girdle of
wampum, like that which confined the scanty
garments of the Indian, but no tomahawk. His
5 The hunting-shirt is a picturesque smock-frock, being shorter, and ornamented with fringes and tassels.
The colors are intended to imitate the hues of the wood,
with a view to concealment. Many corps of American
riflemen have been thus attired, and the dress is one of
the most striking of modern times. The hunting-shirt is
frequently white.
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moccasins were ornamented after the gay fashion of the natives, while the only part of his under dress which appeared below the huntingfrock was a pair of buckskin leggings, that
laced at the sides, and which were gartered
above the knees, with the sinews of a deer.
A pouch and horn completed his personal accouterments, though a rifle of great length6 ,
which the theory of the more ingenious whites
had taught them was the most dangerous of all
firearms, leaned against a neighboring sapling.
The eye of the hunter, or scout, whichever he
might be, was small, quick, keen, and restless,
roving while he spoke, on every side of him, as
if in quest of game, or distrusting the sudden
approach of some lurking enemy. Notwith6 The rifle of the army is short; that of the hunter is
always long.
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standing the symptoms of habitual suspicion,
his countenance was not only without guile,
but at the moment at which he is introduced, it
was charged with an expression of sturdy honesty.
“Even your traditions make the case in my
favor, Chingachgook,” he said, speaking in the
tongue which was known to all the natives
who formerly inhabited the country between
the Hudson and the Potomac, and of which
we shall give a free translation for the benefit
of the reader; endeavoring, at the same time,
to preserve some of the peculiarities, both of
the individual and of the language. “Your fathers came from the setting sun, crossed the big
river7 , fought the people of the country, and
took the land; and mine came from the red sky
7 The
Mississippi. The scout alludes to a tradition
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of the morning, over the salt lake, and did their
work much after the fashion that had been set
them by yours; then let God judge the matter
between us, and friends spare their words!”
“My fathers fought with the naked red
man!” returned the Indian, sternly, in the same
language. “Is there no difference, Hawkeye,
between the stone-headed arrow of the warrior,
and the leaden bullet with which you kill?”
“There is reason in an Indian, though nature
has made him with a red skin!” said the white
man, shaking his head like one on whom such
an appeal to his justice was not thrown away.
For a moment he appeared to be conscious of
which is very popular among the tribes of the Atlantic
states. Evidence of their Asiatic origin is deduced from
the circumstances, though great uncertainty hangs over
the whole history of the Indians.
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having the worst of the argument, then, rallying again, he answered the objection of his antagonist in the best manner his limited information would allow:
“I am no scholar, and I care not who knows
it; but, judging from what I have seen, at deer
chases and squirrel hunts, of the sparks below, I
should think a rifle in the hands of their grandfathers was not so dangerous as a hickory bow
and a good flint-head might be, if drawn with
Indian judgment, and sent by an Indian eye.”
“You have the story told by your fathers,”
returned the other, coldly waving his hand.
“What say your old men? Do they tell the
young warriors that the pale faces met the red
men, painted for war and armed with the stone
hatchet and wooden gun?”
“I am not a prejudiced man, nor one
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who vaunts himself on his natural privileges,
though the worst enemy I have on earth, and
he is an Iroquois, daren’t deny that I am genuine white,” the scout replied, surveying, with
secret satisfaction, the faded color of his bony
and sinewy hand, “and I am willing to own
that my people have many ways, of which, as
an honest man, I can’t approve. It is one of their
customs to write in books what they have done
and seen, instead of telling them in their villages, where the lie can be given to the face of
a cowardly boaster, and the brave soldier can
call on his comrades to witness for the truth
of his words. In consequence of this bad fashion, a man, who is too conscientious to misspend his days among the women, in learning the names of black marks, may never hear
of the deeds of his fathers, nor feel a pride in
striving to outdo them. For myself, I conclude
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the Bumppos could shoot, for I have a natural
turn with a rifle, which must have been handed
down from generation to generation, as, our
holy commandments tell us, all good and evil
gifts are bestowed; though I should be loath to
answer for other people in such a matter. But
every story has its two sides; so I ask you, Chingachgook, what passed, according to the traditions of the red men, when our fathers first
met?”
A silence of a minute succeeded, during
which the Indian sat mute; then, full of the dignity of his office, he commenced his brief tale,
with a solemnity that served to heighten its appearance of truth.
“Listen, Hawkeye, and your ear shall drink
no lie. ‘Tis what my fathers have said, and
what the Mohicans have done.” He hesitated
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a single instant, and bending a cautious glance
toward his companion, he continued, in a manner that was divided between interrogation
and assertion. “Does not this stream at our feet
run toward the summer, until its waters grow
salt, and the current flows upward?”
“It can’t be denied that your traditions tell
you true in both these matters,” said the white
man; “for I have been there, and have seen
them, though why water, which is so sweet in
the shade, should become bitter in the sun, is
an alteration for which I have never been able
to account.”
“And the current!” demanded the Indian,
who expected his reply with that sort of interest that a man feels in the confirmation of
testimony, at which he marvels even while he
respects it; “the fathers of Chingachgook have
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not lied!”
“The holy Bible is not more true, and that is
the truest thing in nature. They call this upstream current the tide, which is a thing soon
explained, and clear enough. Six hours the waters run in, and six hours they run out, and the
reason is this: when there is higher water in the
sea than in the river, they run in until the river
gets to be highest, and then it runs out again.”
“The waters in the woods, and on the great
lakes, run downward until they lie like my
hand,” said the Indian, stretching the limb horizontally before him, “and then they run no
more.”
“No honest man will deny it,” said the scout,
a little nettled at the implied distrust of his
explanation of the mystery of the tides; “and
I grant that it is true on the small scale, and
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where the land is level. But everything depends on what scale you look at things. Now,
on the small scale, the ‘arth is level; but on
the large scale it is round. In this manner,
pools and ponds, and even the great freshwater lakes, may be stagnant, as you and I both
know they are, having seen them; but when
you come to spread water over a great tract,
like the sea, where the earth is round, how in
reason can the water be quiet? You might as
well expect the river to lie still on the brink of
those black rocks a mile above us, though your
own ears tell you that it is tumbling over them
at this very moment.”
If unsatisfied by the philosophy of his companion, the Indian was far too dignified to betray his unbelief. He listened like one who was
convinced, and resumed his narrative in his
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former solemn manner.
“We came from the place where the sun is
hid at night, over great plains where the buffaloes live, until we reached the big river. There
we fought the Alligewi, till the ground was red
with their blood. From the banks of the big
river to the shores of the salt lake, there was
none to meet us. The Maquas followed at a distance. We said the country should be ours from
the place where the water runs up no longer on
this stream, to a river twenty sun’s journey toward the summer. We drove the Maquas into
the woods with the bears. They only tasted salt
at the licks; they drew no fish from the great
lake; we threw them the bones.”
“All this I have heard and believe,” said the
white man, observing that the Indian paused;
“but it was long before the English came into
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the country.”
“A pine grew then where this chestnut now
stands. The first pale faces who came among
us spoke no English. They came in a large
canoe, when my fathers had buried the tomahawk with the red men around them. Then,
Hawkeye,” he continued, betraying his deep
emotion, only by permitting his voice to fall
to those low, guttural tones, which render his
language, as spoken at times, so very musical;
“then, Hawkeye, we were one people, and we
were happy. The salt lake gave us its fish, the
wood its deer, and the air its birds. We took
wives who bore us children; we worshipped
the Great Spirit; and we kept the Maquas beyond the sound of our songs of triumph.”
“Know you anything of your own family at
that time?” demanded the white. “But you are
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just a man, for an Indian; and as I suppose you
hold their gifts, your fathers must have been
brave warriors, and wise men at the councilfire.”
“My tribe is the grandfather of nations, but
I am an unmixed man. The blood of chiefs
is in my veins, where it must stay forever.
The Dutch landed, and gave my people the
fire-water; they drank until the heavens and
the earth seemed to meet, and they foolishly
thought they had found the Great Spirit. Then
they parted with their land. Foot by foot, they
were driven back from the shores, until I, that
am a chief and a Sagamore, have never seen the
sun shine but through the trees, and have never
visited the graves of my fathers.”
“Graves bring solemn feelings over the
mind,” returned the scout, a good deal touched
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at the calm suffering of his companion; “and
they often aid a man in his good intentions;
though, for myself, I expect to leave my own
bones unburied, to bleach in the woods, or
to be torn asunder by the wolves. But where
are to be found those of your race who came
to their kin in the Delaware country, so many
summers since?”
“Where are the blossoms of those summers!–
fallen, one by one; so all of my family departed,
each in his turn, to the land of spirits. I am on
the hilltop and must go down into the valley;
and when Uncas follows in my footsteps there
will no longer be any of the blood of the Sagamores, for my boy is the last of the Mohicans.”
“Uncas is here,” said another voice, in the
same soft, guttural tones, near his elbow; “who
speaks to Uncas?”
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The white man loosened his knife in his
leathern sheath, and made an involuntary
movement of the hand toward his rifle, at this
sudden interruption; but the Indian sat composed, and without turning his head at the unexpected sounds.
At the next instant, a youthful warrior
passed between them, with a noiseless step,
and seated himself on the bank of the rapid
stream. No exclamation of surprise escaped the
father, nor was any question asked, or reply
given, for several minutes; each appearing to
await the moment when he might speak, without betraying womanish curiosity or childish
impatience. The white man seemed to take
counsel from their customs, and, relinquishing
his grasp of the rifle, he also remained silent
and reserved. At length Chingachgook turned
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his eyes slowly toward his son, and demanded:
“Do the Maquas dare to leave the print of
their moccasins in these woods?”
“I have been on their trail,” replied the
young Indian, “and know that they number as
many as the fingers of my two hands; but they
lie hid like cowards.”
“The thieves are outlying for scalps and
plunder,” said the white man, whom we shall
call Hawkeye, after the manner of his companions. “That busy Frenchman, Montcalm, will
send his spies into our very camp, but he will
know what road we travel!”
“‘Tis enough,” returned the father, glancing
his eye toward the setting sun; “they shall be
driven like deer from their bushes. Hawkeye,
let us eat to-night, and show the Maquas that
we are men to-morrow.”
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“I am as ready to do the one as the other;
but to fight the Iroquois ‘tis necessary to find
the skulkers; and to eat, ‘tis necessary to get
the game–talk of the devil and he will come;
there is a pair of the biggest antlers I have seen
this season, moving the bushes below the hill!
Now, Uncas,” he continued, in a half whisper,
and laughing with a kind of inward sound, like
one who had learned to be watchful, “I will bet
my charger three times full of powder, against
a foot of wampum, that I take him atwixt the
eyes, and nearer to the right than to the left.”
“It cannot be!” said the young Indian,
springing to his feet with youthful eagerness;
“all but the tips of his horns are hid!”
“He’s a boy!” said the white man, shaking
his head while he spoke, and addressing the father. “Does he think when a hunter sees a part
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of the creature’, he can’t tell where the rest of
him should be!”
Adjusting his rifle, he was about to make an
exhibition of that skill on which he so much
valued himself, when the warrior struck up the
piece with his hand, saying:
“Hawkeye! will you fight the Maquas?”
“These Indians know the nature of the
woods, as it might be by instinct!” returned
the scout, dropping his rifle, and turning away
like a man who was convinced of his error. “I
must leave the buck to your arrow, Uncas, or
we may kill a deer for them thieves, the Iroquois, to eat.”
The instant the father seconded this intimation by an expressive gesture of the hand,
Uncas threw himself on the ground, and approached the animal with wary movements.
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When within a few yards of the cover, he fitted
an arrow to his bow with the utmost care, while
the antlers moved, as if their owner snuffed
an enemy in the tainted air. In another moment the twang of the cord was heard, a white
streak was seen glancing into the bushes, and
the wounded buck plunged from the cover, to
the very feet of his hidden enemy. Avoiding the
horns of the infuriated animal, Uncas darted to
his side, and passed his knife across the throat,
when bounding to the edge of the river it fell,
dyeing the waters with its blood.
“‘Twas done with Indian skill,” said the
scout laughing inwardly, but with vast satisfaction; “and ‘twas a pretty sight to behold!
Though an arrow is a near shot, and needs a
knife to finish the work.”
“Hugh!” ejaculated his companion, turning
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quickly, like a hound who scented game.
“By the Lord, there is a drove of them!” exclaimed the scout, whose eyes began to glisten with the ardor of his usual occupation;
“if they come within range of a bullet I will
drop one, though the whole Six Nations should
be lurking within sound! What do you hear,
Chingachgook? for to my ears the woods are
dumb.”
“There is but one deer, and he is dead,” said
the Indian, bending his body till his ear nearly
touched the earth. “I hear the sounds of feet!”
“Perhaps the wolves have driven the buck to
shelter, and are following on his trail.”
“No. The horses of white men are coming!”
returned the other, raising himself with dignity, and resuming his seat on the log with his
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former composure. “Hawkeye, they are your
brothers; speak to them.”
“That I will, and in English that the king
needn’t be ashamed to answer,” returned the
hunter, speaking in the language of which he
boasted; “but I see nothing, nor do I hear the
sounds of man or beast; ‘tis strange that an Indian should understand white sounds better
than a man who, his very enemies will own,
has no cross in his blood, although he may
have lived with the red skins long enough to
be suspected! Ha! there goes something like
the cracking of a dry stick, too–now I hear the
bushes move–yes, yes, there is a trampling that
I mistook for the falls–and–but here they come
themselves; God keep them from the Iroquois!”
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“Well go thy way: thou shalt not
from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.”
–Midsummer
Night’s
Dream.
THE WORDS WERE still in the mouth of the
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scout, when the leader of the party, whose approaching footsteps had caught the vigilant ear
of the Indian, came openly into view. A beaten
path, such as those made by the periodical passage of the deer, wound through a little glen
at no great distance, and struck the river at the
point where the white man and his red companions had posted themselves. Along this
track the travelers, who had produced a surprise so unusual in the depths of the forest, advanced slowly toward the hunter, who was in
front of his associates, in readiness to receive
them.
“Who comes?” demanded the scout, throwing his rifle carelessly across his left arm, and
keeping the forefinger of his right hand on the
trigger, though he avoided all appearance of
menace in the act. “Who comes hither, among
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the beasts and dangers of the wilderness?”
“Believers in religion, and friends to the law
and to the king,” returned he who rode foremost. “Men who have journeyed since the rising sun, in the shades of this forest, without
nourishment, and are sadly tired of their wayfaring.”
“You are, then, lost,” interrupted the hunter,
“and have found how helpless ‘tis not to know
whether to take the right hand or the left?”
“Even so; sucking babes are not more dependent on those who guide them than we who are
of larger growth, and who may now be said to
possess the stature without the knowledge of
men. Know you the distance to a post of the
crown called William Henry?”
“Hoot!” shouted the scout, who did not
spare his open laughter, though instantly
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checking the dangerous sounds he indulged
his merriment at less risk of being overheard
by any lurking enemies. “You are as much
off the scent as a hound would be, with Horican atwixt him and the deer! William Henry,
man! if you are friends to the king and have
business with the army, your way would be
to follow the river down to Edward, and lay
the matter before Webb, who tarries there, instead of pushing into the defiles, and driving
this saucy Frenchman back across Champlain,
into his den again.”
Before the stranger could make any reply
to this unexpected proposition, another horseman dashed the bushes aside, and leaped his
charger into the pathway, in front of his companion.
“What, then, may be our distance from Fort
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Edward?” demanded a new speaker; “the
place you advise us to seek we left this morning, and our destination is the head of the
lake.”
“Then you must have lost your eyesight
afore losing your way, for the road across the
portage is cut to a good two rods, and is as
grand a path, I calculate, as any that runs into
London, or even before the palace of the king
himself.”
“We will not dispute concerning the excellence of the passage,” returned Heyward, smiling; for, as the reader has anticipated, it was he.
“It is enough, for the present, that we trusted to
an Indian guide to take us by a nearer, though
blinder path, and that we are deceived in his
knowledge. In plain words, we know not
where we are.”
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“An Indian lost in the woods!” said the
scout, shaking his head doubtingly; “When the
sun is scorching the tree tops, and the water
courses are full; when the moss on every beech
he sees will tell him in what quarter the north
star will shine at night. The woods are full of
deer-paths which run to the streams and licks,
places well known to everybody; nor have the
geese done their flight to the Canada waters altogether! ‘Tis strange that an Indian should be
lost atwixt Horican and the bend in the river!
Is he a Mohawk?”
“Not by birth, though adopted in that tribe;
I think his birthplace was farther north, and he
is one of those you call a Huron.”
“Hugh!” exclaimed the two companions of
the scout, who had continued until this part
of the dialogue, seated immovable, and appar-
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ently indifferent to what passed, but who now
sprang to their feet with an activity and interest
that had evidently got the better of their reserve
by surprise.
“A Huron!” repeated the sturdy scout, once
more shaking his head in open distrust; “they
are a thievish race, nor do I care by whom they
are adopted; you can never make anything of
them but skulks and vagabonds. Since you
trusted yourself to the care of one of that nation, I only wonder that you have not fallen in
with more.”
“Of that there is little danger, since William
Henry is so many miles in our front. You forget
that I have told you our guide is now a Mohawk, and that he serves with our forces as a
friend.”
“And I tell you that he who is born a Mingo
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will die a Mingo,” returned the other positively. “A Mohawk! No, give me a Delaware
or a Mohican for honesty; and when they will
fight, which they won’t all do, having suffered
their cunning enemies, the Maquas, to make
them women–but when they will fight at all,
look to a Delaware, or a Mohican, for a warrior!”
“Enough of this,” said Heyward, impatiently; “I wish not to inquire into the character
of a man that I know, and to whom you must
be a stranger. You have not yet answered my
question; what is our distance from the main
army at Edward?”
“It seems that may depend on who is your
guide. One would think such a horse as that
might get over a good deal of ground atwixt
sun-up and sun-down.”
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“I wish no contention of idle words with
you, friend,” said Heyward, curbing his dissatisfied manner, and speaking in a more gentle
voice; “if you will tell me the distance to Fort
Edward, and conduct me thither, your labor
shall not go without its reward.”
“And in so doing, how know I that I don’t
guide an enemy and a spy of Montcalm, to the
works of the army? It is not every man who
can speak the English tongue that is an honest
subject.”
“If you serve with the troops, of whom I
judge you to be a scout, you should know of
such a regiment of the king as the Sixtieth.”
“The Sixtieth! you can tell me little of the
Royal Americans that I don’t know, though I do
wear a hunting-shirt instead of a scarlet jacket.”
“Well, then, among other things, you may
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know the name of its major?”
“Its major!” interrupted the hunter, elevating his body like one who was proud of
his trust. “If there is a man in the country
who knows Major Effingham, he stands before
you.”
“It is a corps which has many majors; the
gentleman you name is the senior, but I speak
of the junior of them all; he who commands the
companies in garrison at William Henry.”
“Yes, yes, I have heard that a young gentleman of vast riches, from one of the provinces
far south, has got the place. He is over young,
too, to hold such rank, and to be put above men
whose heads are beginning to bleach; and yet
they say he is a soldier in his knowledge, and a
gallant gentleman!”
“Whatever he may be, or however he may
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be qualified for his rank, he now speaks to you
and, of course, can be no enemy to dread.”
The scout regarded Heyward in surprise,
and then lifting his cap, he answered, in a tone
less confident than before–though still expressing doubt.
“I have heard a party was to leave the encampment this morning for the lake shore?”
“You have heard the truth; but I preferred a
nearer route, trusting to the knowledge of the
Indian I mentioned.”
“And he deceived you, and then deserted?”
“Neither, as I believe; certainly not the latter,
for he is to be found in the rear.”
“I should like to look at the creature; if it is a
true Iroquois I can tell him by his knavish look,
and by his paint,” said the scout; stepping past
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the charger of Heyward, and entering the path
behind the mare of the singing master, whose
foal had taken advantage of the halt to exact
the maternal contribution. After shoving aside
the bushes, and proceeding a few paces, he encountered the females, who awaited the result
of the conference with anxiety, and not entirely
without apprehension. Behind these, the runner leaned against a tree, where he stood the
close examination of the scout with an air unmoved, though with a look so dark and savage,
that it might in itself excite fear. Satisfied with
his scrutiny, the hunter soon left him. As he
repassed the females, he paused a moment to
gaze upon their beauty, answering to the smile
and nod of Alice with a look of open pleasure.
Thence he went to the side of the motherly animal, and spending a minute in a fruitless inquiry into the character of her rider, he shook
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his head and returned to Heyward.
“A Mingo is a Mingo, and God having made
him so, neither the Mohawks nor any other
tribe can alter him,” he said, when he had regained his former position. “If we were alone,
and you would leave that noble horse at the
mercy of the wolves to-night, I could show you
the way to Edward myself, within an hour, for
it lies only about an hour’s journey hence; but
with such ladies in your company ‘tis impossible!”
“And why? They are fatigued, but they are
quite equal to a ride of a few more miles.”
“‘Tis a natural impossibility!” repeated the
scout; “I wouldn’t walk a mile in these woods
after night gets into them, in company with
that runner, for the best rifle in the colonies.
They are full of outlying Iroquois, and your
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mongrel Mohawk knows where to find them
too well to be my companion.”
“Think you so?” said Heyward, leaning forward in the saddle, and dropping his voice
nearly to a whisper; “I confess I have not been
without my own suspicions, though I have endeavored to conceal them, and affected a confidence I have not always felt, on account of my
companions. It was because I suspected him
that I would follow no longer; making him, as
you see, follow me.”
“I knew he was one of the cheats as soon as
I laid eyes on him!” returned the scout, placing
a finger on his nose, in sign of caution.
“The thief is leaning against the foot of the
sugar sapling, that you can see over them
bushes; his right leg is in a line with the bark
of the tree, and,” tapping his rifle, “I can take
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him from where I stand, between the angle and
the knee, with a single shot, putting an end to
his tramping through the woods, for at least
a month to come. If I should go back to him,
the cunning varmint would suspect something,
and be dodging through the trees like a frightened deer.”
“It will not do. He may be innocent, and I
dislike the act. Though, if I felt confident of his
treachery–”
“‘Tis a safe thing to calculate on the knavery
of an Iroquois,” said the scout, throwing his rifle forward, by a sort of instinctive movement.
“Hold!” interrupted Heyward, “it will not
do–we must think of some other scheme–and
yet, I have much reason to believe the rascal
has deceived me.”
The hunter, who had already abandoned his
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intention of maiming the runner, mused a moment, and then made a gesture, which instantly
brought his two red companions to his side.
They spoke together earnestly in the Delaware
language, though in an undertone; and by the
gestures of the white man, which were frequently directed towards the top of the sapling,
it was evident he pointed out the situation of
their hidden enemy. His companions were not
long in comprehending his wishes, and laying
aside their firearms, they parted, taking opposite sides of the path, and burying themselves
in the thicket, with such cautious movements,
that their steps were inaudible.
“Now, go you back,” said the hunter, speaking again to Heyward, “and hold the imp in
talk; these Mohicans here will take him without breaking his paint.”
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“Nay,” said Heyward, proudly, “I will seize
him myself.”
“Hist! what could you do, mounted, against
an Indian in the bushes!”
“I will dismount.”
“And, think you, when he saw one of your
feet out of the stirrup, he would wait for the
other to be free? Whoever comes into the
woods to deal with the natives, must use Indian fashions, if he would wish to prosper in
his undertakings. Go, then; talk openly to the
miscreant, and seem to believe him the truest
friend you have on ‘arth.”
Heyward prepared to comply, though with
strong disgust at the nature of the office he
was compelled to execute. Each moment, however, pressed upon him a conviction of the
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critical situation in which he had suffered his
invaluable trust to be involved through his
own confidence. The sun had already disappeared, and the woods, suddenly deprived of
his light8 , were assuming a dusky hue, which
keenly reminded him that the hour the savage
usually chose for his most barbarous and remorseless acts of vengeance or hostility, was
speedily drawing near. Stimulated by apprehension, he left the scout, who immediately entered into a loud conversation with the stranger
that had so unceremoniously enlisted himself
in the party of travelers that morning. In passing his gentler companions Heyward uttered a
few words of encouragement, and was pleased
to find that, though fatigued with the exercise
8 The scene of this tale was in the 42d degree of latitude, where the twilight is never of long continuation.
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of the day, they appeared to entertain no suspicion that their present embarrassment was
other than the result of accident. Giving them
reason to believe he was merely employed in
a consultation concerning the future route, he
spurred his charger, and drew the reins again
when the animal had carried him within a few
yards of the place where the sullen runner still
stood, leaning against the tree.
“You may see, Magua,” he said, endeavoring
to assume an air of freedom and confidence,
“that the night is closing around us, and yet we
are no nearer to William Henry than when we
left the encampment of Webb with the rising
sun.
“You have missed the way, nor have I been
more fortunate. But, happily, we have fallen in
with a hunter, he whom you hear talking to the
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singer, that is acquainted with the deerpaths
and by-ways of the woods, and who promises
to lead us to a place where we may rest securely
till the morning.”
The Indian riveted his glowing eyes on Heyward as he asked, in his imperfect English, “Is
he alone?”
“Alone!” hesitatingly answered Heyward,
to whom deception was too new to be assumed without embarrassment. “Oh! not
alone, surely, Magua, for you know that we are
with him.”
“Then Le Renard Subtil will go,” returned
the runner, coolly raising his little wallet from
the place where it had lain at his feet; “and the
pale faces will see none but their own color.”
“Go! Whom call you Le Renard?”
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“‘Tis the name his Canada fathers have given
to Magua,” returned the runner, with an air
that manifested his pride at the distinction.
“Night is the same as day to Le Subtil, when
Munro waits for him.”
“And what account will Le Renard give the
chief of William Henry concerning his daughters? Will he dare to tell the hot-blooded Scotsman that his children are left without a guide,
though Magua promised to be one?”
“Though the gray head has a loud voice, and
a long arm, Le Renard will not hear him, nor
feel him, in the woods.”
“But what will the Mohawks say? They will
make him petticoats, and bid him stay in the
wigwam with the women, for he is no longer
to be trusted with the business of a man.”
“Le Subtil knows the path to the great lakes,
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and he can find the bones of his fathers,” was
the answer of the unmoved runner.
“Enough, Magua,” said Heyward; “are we
not friends? Why should there be bitter words
between us? Munro has promised you a gift
for your services when performed, and I shall
be your debtor for another. Rest your weary
limbs, then, and open your wallet to eat. We
have a few moments to spare; let us not waste
them in talk like wrangling women. When the
ladies are refreshed we will proceed.”
“The pale faces make themselves dogs to
their women,” muttered the Indian, in his native language, “and when they want to eat,
their warriors must lay aside the tomahawk to
feed their laziness.”
“What say you, Renard?”
“Le Subtil says it is good.”
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The Indian then fastened his eyes keenly on
the open countenance of Heyward, but meeting his glance, he turned them quickly away,
and seating himself deliberately on the ground,
he drew forth the remnant of some former
repast, and began to eat, though not without
first bending his looks slowly and cautiously
around him.
“This is well,” continued Heyward; “and
Le Renard will have strength and sight to
find the path in the morning”; he paused, for
sounds like the snapping of a dried stick, and
the rustling of leaves, rose from the adjacent
bushes, but recollecting himself instantly, he
continued, “we must be moving before the sun
is seen, or Montcalm may lie in our path, and
shut us out from the fortress.”
The hand of Magua dropped from his mouth
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to his side, and though his eyes were fastened
on the ground, his head was turned aside, his
nostrils expanded, and his ears seemed even to
stand more erect than usual, giving to him the
appearance of a statue that was made to represent intense attention.
Heyward, who watched his movements
with a vigilant eye, carelessly extricated one
of his feet from the stirrup, while he passed a
hand toward the bear-skin covering of his holsters.
Every effort to detect the point most regarded by the runner was completely frustrated by the tremulous glances of his organs,
which seemed not to rest a single instant on
any particular object, and which, at the same
time, could be hardly said to move. While he
hesitated how to proceed, Le Subtil cautiously
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raised himself to his feet, though with a motion so slow and guarded, that not the slightest noise was produced by the change. Heyward felt it had now become incumbent on him
to act. Throwing his leg over the saddle, he
dismounted, with a determination to advance
and seize his treacherous companion, trusting
the result to his own manhood. In order, however, to prevent unnecessary alarm, he still preserved an air of calmness and friendship.
“Le Renard Subtil does not eat,” he said, using the appellation he had found most flattering to the vanity of the Indian. “His corn is not
well parched, and it seems dry. Let me examine; perhaps something may be found among
my own provisions that will help his appetite.”
Magua held out the wallet to the proffer of
the other. He even suffered their hands to meet,
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without betraying the least emotion, or varying his riveted attitude of attention. But when
he felt the fingers of Heyward moving gently
along his own naked arm, he struck up the limb
of the young man, and, uttering a piercing cry,
he darted beneath it, and plunged, at a single
bound, into the opposite thicket. At the next instant the form of Chingachgook appeared from
the bushes, looking like a specter in its paint,
and glided across the path in swift pursuit.
Next followed the shout of Uncas, when the
woods were lighted by a sudden flash, that
was accompanied by the sharp report of the
hunter’s rifle.
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...“In such a night Did
This be fearfully o’ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion’s shadow ere
himself.”
–Merchant of Venice
THE SUDDENNESS OF the flight of his
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guide, and the wild cries of the pursuers,
caused Heyward to remain fixed, for a few
moments, in inactive surprise. Then recollecting the importance of securing the fugitive,
he dashed aside the surrounding bushes, and
pressed eagerly forward to lend his aid in the
chase. Before he had, however, proceeded a
hundred yards, he met the three foresters already returning from their unsuccessful pursuit.
“Why so soon disheartened!” he exclaimed;
“the scoundrel must be concealed behind some
of these trees, and may yet be secured. We are
not safe while he goes at large.”
“Would you set a cloud to chase the wind?”
returned the disappointed scout; “I heard the
imp brushing over the dry leaves, like a black
snake, and blinking a glimpse of him, just over
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ag’in yon big pine, I pulled as it might be on
the scent; but ‘twouldn’t do! and yet for a reasoning aim, if anybody but myself had touched
the trigger, I should call it a quick sight; and I
may be accounted to have experience in these
matters, and one who ought to know. Look at
this sumach; its leaves are red, though everybody knows the fruit is in the yellow blossom
in the month of July!”
“‘Tis the blood of Le Subtil! he is hurt, and
may yet fall!”
“No, no,” returned the scout, in decided disapprobation of this opinion, “I rubbed the bark
off a limb, perhaps, but the creature leaped the
longer for it. A rifle bullet acts on a running
animal, when it barks him, much the same as
one of your spurs on a horse; that is, it quickens motion, and puts life into the flesh, instead
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of taking it away. But when it cuts the ragged
hole, after a bound or two, there is, commonly,
a stagnation of further leaping, be it Indian or
be it deer!”
“We are four able bodies, to one wounded
man!”
“Is life grievous to you?” interrupted the
scout. “Yonder red devil would draw you
within swing of the tomahawks of his comrades, before you were heated in the chase. It
was an unthoughtful act in a man who has so
often slept with the war-whoop ringing in the
air, to let off his piece within sound of an ambushment! But then it was a natural temptation! ‘twas very natural! Come, friends, let us
move our station, and in such fashion, too, as
will throw the cunning of a Mingo on a wrong
scent, or our scalps will be drying in the wind
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in front of Montcalm’s marquee, ag’in this hour
to-morrow.”
This appalling declaration, which the scout
uttered with the cool assurance of a man who
fully comprehended, while he did not fear to
face the danger, served to remind Heyward of
the importance of the charge with which he
himself had been intrusted. Glancing his eyes
around, with a vain effort to pierce the gloom
that was thickening beneath the leafy arches
of the forest, he felt as if, cut off from human
aid, his unresisting companions would soon
lie at the entire mercy of those barbarous enemies, who, like beasts of prey, only waited
till the gathering darkness might render their
blows more fatally certain. His awakened
imagination, deluded by the deceptive light,
converted each waving bush, or the fragment
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of some fallen tree, into human forms, and
twenty times he fancied he could distinguish
the horrid visages of his lurking foes, peering from their hiding places, in never ceasing
watchfulness of the movements of his party.
Looking upward, he found that the thin fleecy
clouds, which evening had painted on the blue
sky, were already losing their faintest tints of
rose-color, while the imbedded stream, which
glided past the spot where he stood, was to
be traced only by the dark boundary of its
wooded banks.
“What is to be done!” he said, feeling the
utter helplessness of doubt in such a pressing
strait; “desert me not, for God’s sake! remain
to defend those I escort, and freely name your
own reward!”
His companions, who conversed apart in the
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language of their tribe, heeded not this sudden
and earnest appeal. Though their dialogue was
maintained in low and cautious sounds, but little above a whisper, Heyward, who now approached, could easily distinguish the earnest
tones of the younger warrior from the more
deliberate speeches of his seniors. It was evident that they debated on the propriety of some
measure, that nearly concerned the welfare of
the travelers. Yielding to his powerful interest in the subject, and impatient of a delay that
seemed fraught with so much additional danger, Heyward drew still nigher to the dusky
group, with an intention of making his offers
of compensation more definite, when the white
man, motioning with his hand, as if he conceded the disputed point, turned away, saying
in a sort of soliloquy, and in the English tongue:
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“Uncas is right! it would not be the act of
men to leave such harmless things to their fate,
even though it breaks up the harboring place
forever. If you would save these tender blossoms from the fangs of the worst of serpents,
gentleman, you have neither time to lose nor
resolution to throw away!”
“How can such a wish be doubted! Have I
not already offered–”
“Offer your prayers to Him who can give us
wisdom to circumvent the cunning of the devils who fill these woods,” calmly interrupted
the scout, “but spare your offers of money,
which neither you may live to realize, nor I to
profit by. These Mohicans and I will do what
man’s thoughts can invent, to keep such flowers, which, though so sweet, were never made
for the wilderness, from harm, and that with-
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out hope of any other recompense but such as
God always gives to upright dealings. First,
you must promise two things, both in your
own name and for your friends, or without
serving you we shall only injure ourselves!”
“Name them.”
“The one is, to be still as these sleeping
woods, let what will happen and the other is,
to keep the place where we shall take you, forever a secret from all mortal men.”
“I will do my utmost to see both these conditions fulfilled.”
“Then follow, for we are losing moments that
are as precious as the heart’s blood to a stricken
deer!”
Heyward could distinguish the impatient
gesture of the scout, through the increasing
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shadows of the evening, and he moved in his
footsteps, swiftly, toward the place where he
had left the remainder of the party. When they
rejoined the expecting and anxious females, he
briefly acquainted them with the conditions of
their new guide, and with the necessity that
existed for their hushing every apprehension
in instant and serious exertions. Although
his alarming communication was not received
without much secret terror by the listeners, his
earnest and impressive manner, aided perhaps
by the nature of the danger, succeeded in bracing their nerves to undergo some unlooked-for
and unusual trial. Silently, and without a moment’s delay, they permitted him to assist them
from their saddles, and when they descended
quickly to the water’s edge, where the scout
had collected the rest of the party, more by the
agency of expressive gestures than by any use
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of words.
“What to do with these dumb creatures!”
muttered the white man, on whom the sole
control of their future movements appeared to
devolve; “it would be time lost to cut their
throats, and cast them into the river; and to
leave them here would be to tell the Mingoes
that they have not far to seek to find their owners!”
“Then give them their bridles, and let them
range the woods,” Heyward ventured to suggest.
“No; it would be better to mislead the imps,
and make them believe they must equal a
horse’s speed to run down their chase. Ay, ay,
that will blind their fireballs of eyes! Chingach–
Hist! what stirs the bush?”
“The colt.”
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“That colt, at least, must die,” muttered the
scout, grasping at the mane of the nimble beast,
which easily eluded his hand; “Uncas, your arrows!”
“Hold!” exclaimed the proprietor of the condemned animal, aloud, without regard to the
whispering tones used by the others; “spare
the foal of Miriam! it is the comely offspring
of a faithful dam, and would willingly injure
naught.”
“When men struggle for the single life God
has given them,” said the scout, sternly, “even
their own kind seem no more than the beasts of
the wood. If you speak again, I shall leave you
to the mercy of the Maquas! Draw to your arrow’s head, Uncas; we have no time for second
blows.”
The low, muttering sounds of his threaten-
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ing voice were still audible, when the wounded
foal, first rearing on its hinder legs, plunged
forward to its knees. It was met by Chingachgook, whose knife passed across its throat
quicker than thought, and then precipitating the motions of the struggling victim, he
dashed into the river, down whose stream it
glided away, gasping audibly for breath with
its ebbing life. This deed of apparent cruelty,
but of real necessity, fell upon the spirits of
the travelers like a terrific warning of the peril
in which they stood, heightened as it was by
the calm though steady resolution of the actors in the scene. The sisters shuddered and
clung closer to each other, while Heyward instinctively laid his hand on one of the pistols
he had just drawn from their holsters, as he
placed himself between his charge and those
dense shadows that seemed to draw an impen-
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etrable veil before the bosom of the forest.
The Indians, however, hesitated not a moment, but taking the bridles, they led the frightened and reluctant horses into the bed of the
river.
At a short distance from the shore they
turned, and were soon concealed by the projection of the bank, under the brow of which
they moved, in a direction opposite to the
course of the waters. In the meantime, the
scout drew a canoe of bark from its place of
concealment beneath some low bushes, whose
branches were waving with the eddies of the
current, into which he silently motioned for
the females to enter. They complied without
hesitation, though many a fearful and anxious
glance was thrown behind them, toward the
thickening gloom, which now lay like a dark
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barrier along the margin of the stream.
So soon as Cora and Alice were seated, the
scout, without regarding the element, directed
Heyward to support one side of the frail vessel,
and posting himself at the other, they bore it
up against the stream, followed by the dejected
owner of the dead foal. In this manner they
proceeded, for many rods, in a silence that was
only interrupted by the rippling of the water, as
its eddies played around them, or the low dash
made by their own cautious footsteps. Heyward yielded the guidance of the canoe implicitly to the scout, who approached or receded
from the shore, to avoid the fragments of rocks,
or deeper parts of the river, with a readiness
that showed his knowledge of the route they
held. Occasionally he would stop; and in the
midst of a breathing stillness, that the dull but
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increasing roar of the waterfall only served to
render more impressive, he would listen with
painful intenseness, to catch any sounds that
might arise from the slumbering forest. When
assured that all was still, and unable to detect,
even by the aid of his practiced senses, any sign
of his approaching foes, he would deliberately
resume his slow and guarded progress. At
length they reached a point in the river where
the roving eye of Heyward became riveted on
a cluster of black objects, collected at a spot
where the high bank threw a deeper shadow
than usual on the dark waters. Hesitating to
advance, he pointed out the place to the attention of his companion.
“Ay,” returned the composed scout, “the Indians have hid the beasts with the judgment
of natives! Water leaves no trail, and an owl’s
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eyes would be blinded by the darkness of such
a hole.”
The whole party was soon reunited, and
another consultation was held between the
scout and his new comrades, during which,
they, whose fates depended on the faith and
ingenuity of these unknown foresters, had a
little leisure to observe their situation more
minutely.
The river was confined between high and
cragged rocks, one of which impended above
the spot where the canoe rested. As these,
again, were surmounted by tall trees, which
appeared to totter on the brows of the
precipice, it gave the stream the appearance
of running through a deep and narrow dell.
All beneath the fantastic limbs and ragged
tree tops, which were, here and there, dimly
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painted against the starry zenith, lay alike in
shadowed obscurity. Behind them, the curvature of the banks soon bounded the view
by the same dark and wooded outline; but
in front, and apparently at no great distance,
the water seemed piled against the heavens,
whence it tumbled into caverns, out of which
issued those sullen sounds that had loaded the
evening atmosphere. It seemed, in truth, to
be a spot devoted to seclusion, and the sisters
imbibed a soothing impression of security, as
they gazed upon its romantic though not unappalling beauties. A general movement among
their conductors, however, soon recalled them
from a contemplation of the wild charms that
night had assisted to lend the place to a painful
sense of their real peril.
The horses had been secured to some scat-
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tering shrubs that grew in the fissures of the
rocks, where, standing in the water, they were
left to pass the night. The scout directed Heyward and his disconsolate fellow travelers to
seat themselves in the forward end of the canoe, and took possession of the other himself,
as erect and steady as if he floated in a vessel
of much firmer materials. The Indians warily
retraced their steps toward the place they had
left, when the scout, placing his pole against a
rock, by a powerful shove, sent his frail bark
directly into the turbulent stream. For many
minutes the struggle between the light bubble
in which they floated and the swift current was
severe and doubtful. Forbidden to stir even
a hand, and almost afraid to breath, lest they
should expose the frail fabric to the fury of
the stream, the passengers watched the glancing waters in feverish suspense. Twenty times
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they thought the whirling eddies were sweeping them to destruction, when the master-hand
of their pilot would bring the bows of the canoe to stem the rapid. A long, a vigorous, and,
as it appeared to the females, a desperate effort, closed the struggle. Just as Alice veiled her
eyes in horror, under the impression that they
were about to be swept within the vortex at the
foot of the cataract, the canoe floated, stationary, at the side of a flat rock, that lay on a level
with the water.
“Where are we, and what is next to be done!”
demanded Heyward, perceiving that the exertions of the scout had ceased.
“You are at the foot of Glenn’s,” returned the
other, speaking aloud, without fear of consequences within the roar of the cataract; “and
the next thing is to make a steady landing,
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lest the canoe upset, and you should go down
again the hard road we have traveled faster
than you came up; ‘tis a hard rift to stem, when
the river is a little swelled; and five is an unnatural number to keep dry, in a hurry-skurry,
with a little birchen bark and gum. There, go
you all on the rock, and I will bring up the
Mohicans with the venison. A man had better sleep without his scalp, than famish in the
midst of plenty.”
His passengers gladly complied with these
directions. As the last foot touched the rock,
the canoe whirled from its station, when the
tall form of the scout was seen, for an instant,
gliding above the waters, before it disappeared
in the impenetrable darkness that rested on the
bed of the river. Left by their guide, the travelers remained a few minutes in helpless igno-
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rance, afraid even to move along the broken
rocks, lest a false step should precipitate them
down some one of the many deep and roaring caverns, into which the water seemed to
tumble, on every side of them. Their suspense,
however, was soon relieved; for, aided by the
skill of the natives, the canoe shot back into the
eddy, and floated again at the side of the low
rock, before they thought the scout had even
time to rejoin his companions.
“We are now fortified, garrisoned, and provisioned,” cried Heyward cheerfully, “and may
set Montcalm and his allies at defiance. How,
now, my vigilant sentinel, can see anything of
those you call the Iroquois, on the main land!”
“I call them Iroquois, because to me every
native, who speaks a foreign tongue, is accounted an enemy, though he may pretend to
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serve the king! If Webb wants faith and honesty in an Indian, let him bring out the tribes
of the Delawares, and send these greedy and
lying Mohawks and Oneidas, with their six nations of varlets, where in nature they belong,
among the French!”
“We should then exchange a warlike for a
useless friend! I have heard that the Delawares
have laid aside the hatchet, and are content to
be called women!”
“Aye, shame on the Hollanders and Iroquois,
who circumvented them by their deviltries,
into such a treaty! But I have known them for
twenty years, and I call him liar that says cowardly blood runs in the veins of a Delaware.
You have driven their tribes from the seashore,
and would now believe what their enemies say,
that you may sleep at night upon an easy pil-
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low. No, no; to me, every Indian who speaks a
foreign tongue is an Iroquois, whether the castle9 of his tribe be in Canada, or be in York.”
Heyward, perceiving that the stubborn adherence of the scout to the cause of his friends
the Delawares, or Mohicans, for they were
branches of the same numerous people, was
likely to prolong a useless discussion, changed
the subject.
“Treaty or no treaty, I know full well that
your two companions are brave and cautious
warriors! have they heard or seen anything of
our enemies!”
“An Indian is a mortal to be felt afore he is
9 The principal villages of the Indians are still called
“castles” by the whites of New York. “Oneida castle”
is no more than a scattered hamlet; but the name is in
general use.
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seen,” returned the scout, ascending the rock,
and throwing the deer carelessly down. “I trust
to other signs than such as come in at the eye,
when I am outlying on the trail of the Mingoes.”
“Do your ears tell you that they have traced
our retreat?”
“I should be sorry to think they had, though
this is a spot that stout courage might hold for
a smart scrimmage. I will not deny, however,
but the horses cowered when I passed them,
as though they scented the wolves; and a wolf
is a beast that is apt to hover about an Indian
ambushment, craving the offals of the deer the
savages kill.”
“You forget the buck at your feet! or, may we
not owe their visit to the dead colt? Ha! what
noise is that?”
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“Poor Miriam!” murmured the stranger;
“thy foal was foreordained to become a prey
to ravenous beasts!” Then, suddenly lifting up
his voice, amid the eternal din of the waters,
he sang aloud: “First born of Egypt, smite did
he, Of mankind, and of beast also: O, Egypt!
wonders sent ‘midst thee, On Pharaoh and his
servants too!”
“The death of the colt sits heavy on the heart
of its owner,” said the scout; “but it’s a good
sign to see a man account upon his dumb
friends. He has the religion of the matter, in
believing what is to happen will happen; and
with such a consolation, it won’t be long afore
he submits to the rationality of killing a fourfooted beast to save the lives of human men.
It may be as you say,” he continued, reverting to the purport of Heyward’s last remark;
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“and the greater the reason why we should
cut our steaks, and let the carcass drive down
the stream, or we shall have the pack howling
along the cliffs, begrudging every mouthful we
swallow. Besides, though the Delaware tongue
is the same as a book to the Iroquois, the cunning varlets are quick enough at understanding
the reason of a wolf’s howl.”
The scout, while making his remarks, was
busied in collecting certain necessary implements; as he concluded, he moved silently by
the group of travelers, accompanied by the
Mohicans, who seemed to comprehend his intentions with instinctive readiness, when the
whole three disappeared in succession, seeming to vanish against the dark face of a perpendicular rock that rose to the height of a few
yards, within as many feet of the water’s edge.
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“Those strains that once did sweet
in Zion glide;
He wales a portion with judicious
care;
And ‘Let us worship God’, he says,
with solemn air.”
–Burns
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HEYWARD AND HIS female companions
witnessed this mysterious movement with secret uneasiness; for, though the conduct of the
white man had hitherto been above reproach,
his rude equipments, blunt address, and strong
antipathies, together with the character of his
silent associates, were all causes for exciting
distrust in minds that had been so recently
alarmed by Indian treachery.
The stranger alone disregarded the passing
incidents. He seated himself on a projection
of the rocks, whence he gave no other signs
of consciousness than by the struggles of his
spirit, as manifested in frequent and heavy
sighs. Smothered voices were next heard, as
though men called to each other in the bowels
of the earth, when a sudden light flashed upon
those without, and laid bare the much-prized
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secret of the place.
At the further extremity of a narrow, deep
cavern in the rock, whose length appeared
much extended by the perspective and the nature of the light by which it was seen, was
seated the scout, holding a blazing knot of pine.
The strong glare of the fire fell full upon his
sturdy, weather-beaten countenance and forest attire, lending an air of romantic wildness
to the aspect of an individual, who, seen by
the sober light of day, would have exhibited
the peculiarities of a man remarkable for the
strangeness of his dress, the iron-like inflexibility of his frame, and the singular compound
of quick, vigilant sagacity, and of exquisite
simplicity, that by turns usurped the possession of his muscular features. At a little distance in advance stood Uncas, his whole per-
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son thrown powerfully into view. The travelers anxiously regarded the upright, flexible figure of the young Mohican, graceful and unrestrained in the attitudes and movements of nature. Though his person was more than usually screened by a green and fringed huntingshirt, like that of the white man, there was
no concealment to his dark, glancing, fearless
eye, alike terrible and calm; the bold outline of
his high, haughty features, pure in their native
red; or to the dignified elevation of his receding forehead, together with all the finest proportions of a noble head, bared to the generous
scalping tuft. It was the first opportunity possessed by Duncan and his companions to view
the marked lineaments of either of their Indian
attendants, and each individual of the party felt
relieved from a burden of doubt, as the proud
and determined, though wild expression of the
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features of the young warrior forced itself on
their notice. They felt it might be a being partially benighted in the vale of ignorance, but it
could not be one who would willingly devote
his rich natural gifts to the purposes of wanton treachery. The ingenuous Alice gazed at
his free air and proud carriage, as she would
have looked upon some precious relic of the
Grecian chisel, to which life had been imparted
by the intervention of a miracle; while Heyward, though accustomed to see the perfection of form which abounds among the uncorrupted natives, openly expressed his admiration at such an unblemished specimen of the
noblest proportions of man.
“I could sleep in peace,” whispered Alice,
in reply, “with such a fearless and generouslooking youth for my sentinel. Surely, Duncan,
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those cruel murders, those terrific scenes of torture, of which we read and hear so much, are
never acted in the presence of such as he!”
“This certainly is a rare and brilliant instance
of those natural qualities in which these peculiar people are said to excel,” he answered. “I
agree with you, Alice, in thinking that such a
front and eye were formed rather to intimidate
than to deceive; but let us not practice a deception upon ourselves, by expecting any other
exhibition of what we esteem virtue than according to the fashion of the savage. As bright
examples of great qualities are but too uncommon among Christians, so are they singular
and solitary with the Indians; though, for the
honor of our common nature, neither are incapable of producing them. Let us then hope that
this Mohican may not disappoint our wishes,
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but prove what his looks assert him to be, a
brave and constant friend.”
“Now Major Heyward speaks as Major Heyward should,” said Cora; “who that looks at
this creature of nature, remembers the shade of
his skin?”
A short and apparently an embarrassed silence succeeded this remark, which was interrupted by the scout calling to them, aloud, to
enter.
“This fire begins to show too bright a flame,”
he continued, as they complied, “and might
light the Mingoes to our undoing. Uncas, drop
the blanket, and show the knaves its dark side.
This is not such a supper as a major of the
Royal Americans has a right to expect, but I’ve
known stout detachments of the corps glad to
eat their venison raw, and without a relish,
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too10 . Here, you see, we have plenty of salt,
and can make a quick broil. There’s fresh sassafras boughs for the ladies to sit on, which
may not be as proud as their my-hog-guinea
chairs, but which sends up a sweeter flavor,
than the skin of any hog can do, be it of Guinea,
or be it of any other land. Come, friend, don’t
be mournful for the colt; ‘twas an innocent
thing, and had not seen much hardship. Its
death will save the creature many a sore back
10 In vulgar parlance the condiments of a repast are
called by the American “a relish,” substituting the thing
for its effect. These provincial terms are frequently put
in the mouths of the speakers, according to their several
conditions in life. Most of them are of local use, and others quite peculiar to the particular class of men to which
the character belongs. In the present instance, the scout
uses the word with immediate reference to the “salt,”
with which his own party was so fortunate as to be provided.
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and weary foot!”
Uncas did as the other had directed, and
when the voice of Hawkeye ceased, the roar of
the cataract sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.
“Are we quite safe in this cavern?” demanded Heyward. “Is there no danger of surprise? A single armed man, at its entrance,
would hold us at his mercy.”
A spectral-looking figure stalked from out of
the darkness behind the scout, and seizing a
blazing brand, held it toward the further extremity of their place of retreat. Alice uttered
a faint shriek, and even Cora rose to her feet, as
this appalling object moved into the light; but a
single word from Heyward calmed them, with
the assurance it was only their attendant, Chingachgook, who, lifting another blanket, discov-
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ered that the cavern had two outlets. Then,
holding the brand, he crossed a deep, narrow
chasm in the rocks which ran at right angles
with the passage they were in, but which, unlike that, was open to the heavens, and entered
another cave, answering to the description of
the first, in every essential particular.
“Such old foxes as Chingachgook and myself are not often caught in a barrow with one
hole,” said Hawkeye, laughing; “you can easily
see the cunning of the place–the rock is black
limestone, which everybody knows is soft; it
makes no uncomfortable pillow, where brush
and pine wood is scarce; well, the fall was once
a few yards below us, and I dare to say was,
in its time, as regular and as handsome a sheet
of water as any along the Hudson. But old age
is a great injury to good looks, as these sweet
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young ladies have yet to l’arn! The place is
sadly changed! These rocks are full of cracks,
and in some places they are softer than at othersome, and the water has worked out deep
hollows for itself, until it has fallen back, ay,
some hundred feet, breaking here and wearing
there, until the falls have neither shape nor consistency.”
“In what part of them are we?” asked Heyward.
“Why, we are nigh the spot that Providence
first placed them at, but where, it seems, they
were too rebellious to stay. The rock proved
softer on each side of us, and so they left the
center of the river bare and dry, first working
out these two little holes for us to hide in.”
“We are then on an island!”
“Ay! there are the falls on two sides of us,
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and the river above and below. If you had daylight, it would be worth the trouble to step up
on the height of this rock, and look at the perversity of the water. It falls by no rule at all;
sometimes it leaps, sometimes it tumbles; there
it skips; here it shoots; in one place ‘tis white
as snow, and in another ‘tis green as grass;
hereabouts, it pitches into deep hollows, that
rumble and crush the ‘arth; and thereaways,
it ripples and sings like a brook, fashioning
whirlpools and gullies in the old stone, as if
‘twas no harder than trodden clay. The whole
design of the river seems disconcerted. First it
runs smoothly, as if meaning to go down the
descent as things were ordered; then it angles
about and faces the shores; nor are there places
wanting where it looks backward, as if unwilling to leave the wilderness, to mingle with the
salt. Ay, lady, the fine cobweb-looking cloth
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you wear at your throat is coarse, and like a
fishnet, to little spots I can show you, where the
river fabricates all sorts of images, as if having
broke loose from order, it would try its hand at
everything. And yet what does it amount to!
After the water has been suffered so to have
its will, for a time, like a headstrong man, it
is gathered together by the hand that made it,
and a few rods below you may see it all, flowing on steadily toward the sea, as was foreordained from the first foundation of the ‘arth!”
While his auditors received a cheering assurance of the security of their place of concealment from this untutored description of
Glenn’s,11 they were much inclined to judge
11 Glenn’s Falls are on the Hudson, some forty or fifty
miles above the head of tide, or that place where the
river becomes navigable for sloops. The description of
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differently from Hawkeye, of its wild beauties.
But they were not in a situation to suffer their
thoughts to dwell on the charms of natural objects; and, as the scout had not found it necessary to cease his culinary labors while he spoke,
unless to point out, with a broken fork, the direction of some particularly obnoxious point in
the rebellious stream, they now suffered their
this picturesque and remarkable little cataract, as given
by the scout, is sufficiently correct, though the application of the water to uses of civilized life has materially
injured its beauties. The rocky island and the two caverns are known to every traveler, since the former sustains the pier of a bridge, which is now thrown across
the river, immediately above the fall. In explanation of
the taste of Hawkeye, it should be remembered that men
always prize that most which is least enjoyed. Thus, in
a new country, the woods and other objects, which in an
old country would be maintained at great cost, are got
rid of, simply with a view of “improving” as it is called.
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attention to be drawn to the necessary though
more vulgar consideration of their supper.
The repast, which was greatly aided by the
addition of a few delicacies that Heyward had
the precaution to bring with him when they
left their horses, was exceedingly refreshing
to the weary party. Uncas acted as attendant
to the females, performing all the little offices
within his power, with a mixture of dignity and
anxious grace, that served to amuse Heyward,
who well knew that it was an utter innovation on the Indian customs, which forbid their
warriors to descend to any menial employment, especially in favor of their women. As
the rights of hospitality were, however, considered sacred among them, this little departure
from the dignity of manhood excited no audible comment. Had there been one there suffi-
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ciently disengaged to become a close observer,
he might have fancied that the services of the
young chief were not entirely impartial. That
while he tendered to Alice the gourd of sweet
water, and the venison in a trencher, neatly
carved from the knot of the pepperidge, with
sufficient courtesy, in performing the same offices to her sister, his dark eye lingered on her
rich, speaking countenance. Once or twice he
was compelled to speak, to command her attention of those he served. In such cases he
made use of English, broken and imperfect,
but sufficiently intelligible, and which he rendered so mild and musical, by his deep, guttural voice, that it never failed to cause both
ladies to look up in admiration and astonishment. In the course of these civilities, a few sentences were exchanged, that served to establish
the appearance of an amicable intercourse be-
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tween the parties.
In the meanwhile, the gravity of Chingcachgook remained immovable. He had seated
himself more within the circle of light, where
the frequent, uneasy glances of his guests were
better enabled to separate the natural expression of his face from the artificial terrors of
the war paint. They found a strong resemblance between father and son, with the difference that might be expected from age and
hardships. The fierceness of his countenance
now seemed to slumber, and in its place was
to be seen the quiet, vacant composure which
distinguishes an Indian warrior, when his faculties are not required for any of the greater
purposes of his existence. It was, however,
easy to be seen, by the occasional gleams that
shot across his swarthy visage, that it was only
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necessary to arouse his passions, in order to
give full effect to the terrific device which he
had adopted to intimidate his enemies. On the
other hand, the quick, roving eye of the scout
seldom rested. He ate and drank with an appetite that no sense of danger could disturb,
but his vigilance seemed never to desert him.
Twenty times the gourd or the venison was
suspended before his lips, while his head was
turned aside, as though he listened to some distant and distrusted sounds–a movement that
never failed to recall his guests from regarding the novelties of their situation, to a recollection of the alarming reasons that had driven
them to seek it. As these frequent pauses were
never followed by any remark, the momentary
uneasiness they created quickly passed away,
and for a time was forgotten.
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“Come, friend,” said Hawkeye, drawing out
a keg from beneath a cover of leaves, toward
the close of the repast, and addressing the
stranger who sat at his elbow, doing great justice to his culinary skill, “try a little spruce;
‘twill wash away all thoughts of the colt, and
quicken the life in your bosom. I drink to
our better friendship, hoping that a little horseflesh may leave no heart-burnings atween us.
How do you name yourself?”
“Gamut–David Gamut,” returned the
singing master, preparing to wash down
his sorrows in a powerful draught of the
woodsman’s high-flavored and well-laced
compound.
“A very good name, and, I dare say, handed
down from honest forefathers. I’m an admirator of names, though the Christian fashions
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fall far below savage customs in this particular. The biggest coward I ever knew as called
Lyon; and his wife, Patience, would scold you
out of hearing in less time than a hunted deer
would run a rod. With an Indian ‘tis a matter of
conscience; what he calls himself, he generally
is–not that Chingachgook, which signifies Big
Sarpent, is really a snake, big or little; but that
he understands the windings and turnings of
human natur’, and is silent, and strikes his enemies when they least expect him. What may
be your calling?”
“I am an unworthy instructor in the art of
psalmody.”
“Anan!”
“I teach singing to the youths of the Connecticut levy.”
“You might be better employed. The young
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hounds go laughing and singing too much already through the woods, when they ought not
to breathe louder than a fox in his cover. Can
you use the smoothbore, or handle the rifle?”
“Praised be God, I have never had occasion
to meddle with murderous implements!”
“Perhaps you understand the compass, and
lay down the watercourses and mountains of
the wilderness on paper, in order that they who
follow may find places by their given names?”
“I practice no such employment.”
“You have a pair of legs that might make a
long path seem short! you journey sometimes,
I fancy, with tidings for the general.”
“Never; I follow no other than my own high
vocation, which is instruction in sacred music!”
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“‘Tis a strange calling!” muttered Hawkeye, with an inward laugh, “to go through life,
like a catbird, mocking all the ups and downs
that may happen to come out of other men’s
throats. Well, friend, I suppose it is your gift,
and mustn’t be denied any more than if ‘twas
shooting, or some other better inclination. Let
us hear what you can do in that way; ‘twill
be a friendly manner of saying good-night, for
‘tis time that these ladies should be getting
strength for a hard and a long push, in the
pride of the morning, afore the Maquas are stirring.”
“With joyful pleasure do I consent”, said
David, adjusting his iron-rimmed spectacles,
and producing his beloved little volume, which
he immediately tendered to Alice. “What can
be more fitting and consolatory, than to offer
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up evening praise, after a day of such exceeding jeopardy!”
Alice smiled; but, regarding Heyward, she
blushed and hesitated.
“Indulge yourself,” he whispered; “ought
not the suggestion of the worthy namesake of
the Psalmist to have its weight at such a moment?”
Encouraged by his opinion, Alice did what
her pious inclinations, and her keen relish for
gentle sounds, had before so strongly urged.
The book was open at a hymn not ill adapted to
their situation, and in which the poet, no longer
goaded by his desire to excel the inspired King
of Israel, had discovered some chastened and
respectable powers. Cora betrayed a disposition to support her sister, and the sacred song
proceeded, after the indispensable preliminar-
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ies of the pitchpipe, and the tune had been duly
attended to by the methodical David.
The air was solemn and slow. At times it
rose to the fullest compass of the rich voices
of the females, who hung over their little book
in holy excitement, and again it sank so low,
that the rushing of the waters ran through their
melody, like a hollow accompaniment. The
natural taste and true ear of David governed
and modified the sounds to suit the confined
cavern, every crevice and cranny of which was
filled with the thrilling notes of their flexible voices. The Indians riveted their eyes on
the rocks, and listened with an attention that
seemed to turn them into stone. But the scout,
who had placed his chin in his hand, with an
expression of cold indifference, gradually suffered his rigid features to relax, until, as verse
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succeeded verse, he felt his iron nature subdued, while his recollection was carried back
to boyhood, when his ears had been accustomed to listen to similar sounds of praise, in
the settlements of the colony. His roving eyes
began to moisten, and before the hymn was
ended scalding tears rolled out of fountains
that had long seemed dry, and followed each
other down those cheeks, that had oftener felt
the storms of heaven than any testimonials of
weakness. The singers were dwelling on one of
those low, dying chords, which the ear devours
with such greedy rapture, as if conscious that it
is about to lose them, when a cry, that seemed
neither human nor earthly, rose in the outward
air, penetrating not only the recesses of the cavern, but to the inmost hearts of all who heard
it. It was followed by a stillness apparently as
deep as if the waters had been checked in their
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furious progress, at such a horrid and unusual
interruption.
“What is it?” murmured Alice, after a few
moments of terrible suspense.
“What is it?” repeated Hewyard aloud.
Neither Hawkeye nor the Indians made any
reply. They listened, as if expecting the sound
would be repeated, with a manner that expressed their own astonishment. At length
they spoke together, earnestly, in the Delaware
language, when Uncas, passing by the inner
and most concealed aperture, cautiously left
the cavern. When he had gone, the scout first
spoke in English.
“What it is, or what it is not, none here can
tell, though two of us have ranged the woods
for more than thirty years. I did believe there
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was no cry that Indian or beast could make,
that my ears had not heard; but this has proved
that I was only a vain and conceited mortal.”
“Was it not, then, the shout the warriors
make when they wish to intimidate their enemies?” asked Cora who stood drawing her veil
about her person, with a calmness to which her
agitated sister was a stranger.
“No, no; this was bad, and shocking, and
had a sort of unhuman sound; but when you
once hear the war-whoop, you will never mistake it for anything else. Well, Uncas!” speaking in Delaware to the young chief as he reentered, “what see you? do our lights shine
through the blankets?”
The answer was short, and apparently decided, being given in the same tongue.
“There is nothing to be seen without,” con-
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tinued Hawkeye, shaking his head in discontent; “and our hiding-place is still in darkness.
Pass into the other cave, you that need it, and
seek for sleep; we must be afoot long before
the sun, and make the most of our time to get
to Edward, while the Mingoes are taking their
morning nap.”
Cora set the example of compliance, with
a steadiness that taught the more timid Alice the necessity of obedience. Before leaving
the place, however, she whispered a request to
Duncan, that he would follow. Uncas raised
the blanket for their passage, and as the sisters turned to thank him for this act of attention, they saw the scout seated again before
the dying embers, with his face resting on his
hands, in a manner which showed how deeply
he brooded on the unaccountable interruption
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which had broken up their evening devotions.
Heyward took with him a blazing knot,
which threw a dim light through the narrow
vista of their new apartment. Placing it in a
favorable position, he joined the females, who
now found themselves alone with him for the
first time since they had left the friendly ramparts of Fort Edward.
“Leave us not, Duncan,” said Alice: “we cannot sleep in such a place as this, with that horrid cry still ringing in our ears.”
“First let us examine into the security of
your fortress,” he answered, “and then we will
speak of rest.”
He approached the further end of the cavern, to an outlet, which, like the others, was
concealed by blankets; and removing the thick
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screen, breathed the fresh and reviving air from
the cataract. One arm of the river flowed
through a deep, narrow ravine, which its current had worn in the soft rock, directly beneath
his feet, forming an effectual defense, as he believed, against any danger from that quarter;
the water, a few rods above them, plunging,
glancing, and sweeping along in its most violent and broken manner.
“Nature has made an impenetrable barrier
on this side,” he continued, pointing down the
perpendicular declivity into the dark current
before he dropped the blanket; “and as you
know that good men and true are on guard in
front I see no reason why the advice of our honest host should be disregarded. I am certain
Cora will join me in saying that sleep is necessary to you both.”
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“Cora may submit to the justice of your opinion though she cannot put it in practice,” returned the elder sister, who had placed herself
by the side of Alice, on a couch of sassafras;
“there would be other causes to chase away
sleep, though we had been spared the shock
of this mysterious noise. Ask yourself, Heyward, can daughters forget the anxiety a father
must endure, whose children lodge he knows
not where or how, in such a wilderness, and in
the midst of so many perils?”
“He is a soldier, and knows how to estimate
the chances of the woods.”
“He is a father, and cannot deny his nature.”
“How kind has he ever been to all my follies,
how tender and indulgent to all my wishes!”
sobbed Alice. “We have been selfish, sister, in
urging our visit at such hazard.”
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“I may have been rash in pressing his consent in a moment of much embarrassment, but
I would have proved to him, that however others might neglect him in his strait his children
at least were faithful.”
“When he heard of your arrival at Edward,”
said Heyward, kindly, “there was a powerful
struggle in his bosom between fear and love;
though the latter, heightened, if possible, by
so long a separation, quickly prevailed. ‘It is
the spirit of my noble-minded Cora that leads
them, Duncan’, he said, ‘and I will not balk it.
Would to God, that he who holds the honor
of our royal master in his guardianship, would
show but half her firmness!”’
“And did he not speak of me, Heyward?” demanded Alice, with jealous affection; “surely, he forgot not altogether his little
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Elsie?”
“That were impossible,” returned the young
man; “he called you by a thousand endearing
epithets, that I may not presume to use, but to
the justice of which, I can warmly testify. Once,
indeed, he said–”
Duncan ceased speaking; for while his eyes
were riveted on those of Alice, who had turned
toward him with the eagerness of filial affection, to catch his words, the same strong, horrid
cry, as before, filled the air, and rendered him
mute. A long, breathless silence succeeded,
during which each looked at the others in fearful expectation of hearing the sound repeated.
At length, the blanket was slowly raised, and
the scout stood in the aperture with a countenance whose firmness evidently began to give
way before a mystery that seemed to threaten
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some danger, against which all his cunning and
experience might prove of no avail.
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“They do not sleep,
On yonder cliffs, a grizzly band,
I see them sit.”
–Gray
“‘TWOULD BE NEGLECTING a warning that
is given for our good to lie hid any longer,” said
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Hawkeye “when such sounds are raised in the
forest. These gentle ones may keep close, but
the Mohicans and I will watch upon the rock,
where I suppose a major of the Sixtieth would
wish to keep us company.”
“Is, then, our danger so pressing?” asked
Cora.
“He who makes strange sounds, and gives
them out for man’s information, alone knows
our danger. I should think myself wicked, unto
rebellion against His will, was I to burrow with
such warnings in the air! Even the weak soul
who passes his days in singing is stirred by the
cry, and, as he says, is ‘ready to go forth to
the battle’ If ‘twere only a battle, it would be
a thing understood by us all, and easily managed; but I have heard that when such shrieks
are atween heaven and ‘arth, it betokens an-
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other sort of warfare!”
“If all our reasons for fear, my friend, are
confined to such as proceed from supernatural causes, we have but little occasion to
be alarmed,” continued the undisturbed Cora,
“are you certain that our enemies have not invented some new and ingenious method to
strike us with terror, that their conquest may
become more easy?”
“Lady,” returned the scout, solemnly, “I have
listened to all the sounds of the woods for
thirty years, as a man will listen whose life
and death depend on the quickness of his ears.
There is no whine of the panther, no whistle of
the catbird, nor any invention of the devilish
Mingoes, that can cheat me! I have heard the
forest moan like mortal men in their affliction;
often, and again, have I listened to the wind
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playing its music in the branches of the girdled
trees; and I have heard the lightning cracking
in the air like the snapping of blazing brush as
it spitted forth sparks and forked flames; but
never have I thought that I heard more than the
pleasure of him who sported with the things of
his hand. But neither the Mohicans, nor I, who
am a white man without a cross, can explain
the cry just heard. We, therefore, believe it a
sign given for our good.”
“It is extraordinary!” said Heyward, taking
his pistols from the place where he had laid
them on entering; “be it a sign of peace or a
signal of war, it must be looked to. Lead the
way, my friend; I follow.”
On issuing from their place of confinement,
the whole party instantly experienced a grateful renovation of spirits, by exchanging the
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pent air of the hiding-place for the cool and
invigorating atmosphere which played around
the whirlpools and pitches of the cataract. A
heavy evening breeze swept along the surface
of the river, and seemed to drive the roar of
the falls into the recesses of their own cavern, whence it issued heavily and constant,
like thunder rumbling beyond the distant hills.
The moon had risen, and its light was already
glancing here and there on the waters above
them; but the extremity of the rock where they
stood still lay in shadow. With the exception
of the sounds produced by the rushing waters, and an occasional breathing of the air, as
it murmured past them in fitful currents, the
scene was as still as night and solitude could
make it. In vain were the eyes of each individual bent along the opposite shores, in quest of
some signs of life, that might explain the nature
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of the interruption they had heard. Their anxious and eager looks were baffled by the deceptive light, or rested only on naked rocks, and
straight and immovable trees.
“Here is nothing to be seen but the gloom
and quiet of a lovely evening,” whispered Duncan; “how much should we prize such a scene,
and all this breathing solitude, at any other moment, Cora! Fancy yourselves in security, and
what now, perhaps, increases your terror, may
be made conducive to enjoyment–”
“Listen!” interrupted Alice.
The caution was unnecessary. Once more
the same sound arose, as if from the bed of
the river, and having broken out of the narrow bounds of the cliffs, was heard undulating through the forest, in distant and dying cadences.
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“Can any here give a name to such a cry?”
demanded Hawkeye, when the last echo was
lost in the woods; “if so, let him speak; for myself, I judge it not to belong to ‘arth!”
“Here, then, is one who can undeceive you,”
said Duncan; “I know the sound full well, for
often have I heard it on the field of battle, and
in situations which are frequent in a soldier’s
life. ‘Tis the horrid shriek that a horse will give
in his agony; oftener drawn from him in pain,
though sometimes in terror. My charger is either a prey to the beasts of the forest, or he sees
his danger, without the power to avoid it. The
sound might deceive me in the cavern, but in
the open air I know it too well to be wrong.”
The scout and his companions listened to
this simple explanation with the interest of men
who imbibe new ideas, at the same time that
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they get rid of old ones, which had proved disagreeable inmates. The two latter uttered their
usual expressive exclamation, “hugh!” as the
truth first glanced upon their minds, while the
former, after a short, musing pause, took upon
himself to reply.
“I cannot deny your words,” he said, “for I
am little skilled in horses, though born where
they abound. The wolves must be hovering
above their heads on the bank, and the timorsome creatures are calling on man for help,
in the best manner they are able. Uncas”–he
spoke in Delaware–“Uncas, drop down in the
canoe, and whirl a brand among the pack; or
fear may do what the wolves can’t get at to perform, and leave us without horses in the morning, when we shall have so much need to journey swiftly!”
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The young native had already descended to
the water to comply, when a long howl was
raised on the edge of the river, and was borne
swiftly off into the depths of the forest, as
though the beasts, of their own accord, were
abandoning their prey in sudden terror. Uncas, with instinctive quickness, receded, and
the three foresters held another of their low,
earnest conferences.
“We have been like hunters who have lost
the points of the heavens, and from whom
the sun has been hid for days,” said Hawkeye, turning away from his companions; “now
we begin again to know the signs of our
course, and the paths are cleared from briers!
Seat yourselves in the shade which the moon
throws from yonder beech–‘tis thicker than
that of the pines–and let us wait for that which
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the Lord may choose to send next. Let all your
conversation be in whispers; though it would
be better, and, perhaps, in the end, wiser, if
each one held discourse with his own thoughts,
for a time.”
The manner of the scout was seriously impressive, though no longer distinguished by
any signs of unmanly apprehension. It was evident that his momentary weakness had vanished with the explanation of a mystery which
his own experience had not served to fathom;
and though he now felt all the realities of
their actual condition, that he was prepared
to meet them with the energy of his hardy
nature. This feeling seemed also common to
the natives, who placed themselves in positions which commanded a full view of both
shores, while their own persons were effectu-
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ally concealed from observation. In such circumstances, common prudence dictated that
Heyward and his companions should imitate
a caution that proceeded from so intelligent a
source. The young man drew a pile of the
sassafras from the cave, and placing it in the
chasm which separated the two caverns, it was
occupied by the sisters, who were thus protected by the rocks from any missiles, while
their anxiety was relieved by the assurance that
no danger could approach without a warning. Heyward himself was posted at hand,
so near that he might communicate with his
companions without raising his voice to a dangerous elevation; while David, in imitation of
the woodsmen, bestowed his person in such a
manner among the fissures of the rocks, that his
ungainly limbs were no longer offensive to the
eye.
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In this manner hours passed without further
interruption. The moon reached the zenith,
and shed its mild light perpendicularly on the
lovely sight of the sisters slumbering peacefully in each other’s arms. Duncan cast the
wide shawl of Cora before a spectacle he so
much loved to contemplate, and then suffered
his own head to seek a pillow on the rock.
David began to utter sounds that would have
shocked his delicate
organs in more wakeful moments; in short,
all but Hawkeye and the Mohicans lost every idea of consciousness, in uncontrollable
drowsiness. But the watchfulness of these vigilant protectors neither tired nor slumbered. Immovable as that rock, of which each appeared
to form a part, they lay, with their eyes roving, without intermission, along the dark mar-
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gin of trees, that bounded the adjacent shores
of the narrow stream. Not a sound escaped
them; the most subtle examination could not
have told they breathed. It was evident that
this excess of caution proceeded from an experience that no subtlety on the part of their enemies could deceive. It was, however, continued without any apparent consequences, until
the moon had set, and a pale streak above the
treetops, at the bend of the river a little below,
announced the approach of day.
Then, for the first time, Hawkeye was seen
to stir. He crawled along the rock and shook
Duncan from his heavy slumbers.
“Now is the time to journey,” he whispered;
“awake the gentle ones, and be ready to get
into the canoe when I bring it to the landingplace.”
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“Have you had a quiet night?” said Heyward; “for myself, I believe sleep has got the
better of my vigilance.”
“All is yet still as midnight. Be silent, but be
quick.”
By this time Duncan was thoroughly awake,
and he immediately lifted the shawl from the
sleeping females. The motion caused Cora to
raise her hand as if to repulse him, while Alice
murmured, in her soft, gentle voice, “No, no,
dear father, we were not deserted; Duncan was
with us!”
“Yes, sweet innocence,” whispered the
youth; “Duncan is here, and while life continues or danger remains, he will never quit thee.
Cora! Alice! awake! The hour has come to
move!”
A loud shriek from the younger of the sisters,
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and the form of the other standing upright before him, in bewildered horror, was the unexpected answer he received.
While the words were still on the lips of Heyward, there had arisen such a tumult of yells
and cries as served to drive the swift currents of
his own blood back from its bounding course
into the fountains of his heart. It seemed, for
near a minute, as if the demons of hell had
possessed themselves of the air about them,
and were venting their savage humors in barbarous sounds. The cries came from no particular direction, though it was evident they filled
the woods, and, as the appalled listeners easily
imagined, the caverns of the falls, the rocks, the
bed of the river, and the upper air. David raised
his tall person in the midst of the infernal din,
with a hand on either ear, exclaiming:
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“Whence comes this discord! Has hell broke
loose, that man should utter sounds like these!”
The bright flashes and the quick reports of
a dozen rifles, from the opposite banks of the
stream, followed this incautious exposure of
his person, and left the unfortunate singing
master senseless on that rock where he had
been so long slumbering. The Mohicans boldly
sent back the intimidating yell of their enemies,
who raised a shout of savage triumph at the fall
of Gamut. The flash of rifles was then quick
and close between them, but either party was
too well skilled to leave even a limb exposed
to the hostile aim. Duncan listened with intense anxiety for the strokes of the paddle, believing that flight was now their only refuge.
The river glanced by with its ordinary velocity, but the canoe was nowhere to be seen on
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its dark waters. He had just fancied they were
cruelly deserted by their scout, as a stream of
flame issued from the rock beneath them, and
a fierce yell, blended with a shriek of agony, announced that the messenger of death sent from
the fatal weapon of Hawkeye, had found a victim. At this slight repulse the assailants instantly withdrew, and gradually the place became as still as before the sudden tumult.
Duncan seized the favorable moment to
spring to the body of Gamut, which he bore
within the shelter of the narrow chasm that
protected the sisters. In another minute the
whole party was collected in this spot of comparative safety.
“The poor fellow has saved his scalp,” said
Hawkeye, coolly passing his hand over the
head of David; “but he is a proof that a man
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may be born with too long a tongue! ‘Twas
downright madness to show six feet of flesh
and blood, on a naked rock, to the raging savages. I only wonder he has escaped with life.”
“Is he not dead?” demanded Cora, in a
voice whose husky tones showed how powerfully natural horror struggled with her assumed firmness. “Can we do aught to assist
the wretched man?”
“No, no! the life is in his heart yet, and after he has slept awhile he will come to himself, and be a wiser man for it, till the hour of
his real time shall come,” returned Hawkeye,
casting another oblique glance at the insensible body, while he filled his charger with admirable nicety. “Carry him in, Uncas, and lay
him on the sassafras. The longer his nap lasts
the better it will be for him, as I doubt whether
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he can find a proper cover for such a shape
on these rocks; and singing won’t do any good
with the Iroquois.”
“You believe, then, the attack will be renewed?” asked Heyward.
“Do I expect a hungry wolf will satisfy his
craving with a mouthful! They have lost a man,
and ‘tis their fashion, when they meet a loss,
and fail in the surprise, to fall back; but we
shall have them on again, with new expedients
to circumvent us, and master our scalps. Our
main hope,” he continued, raising his rugged
countenance, across which a shade of anxiety
just then passed like a darkening cloud, “will
be to keep the rock until Munro can send a
party to our help! God send it may be soon
and under a leader that knows the Indian customs!”
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“You hear our probable fortunes, Cora,” said
Duncan, “and you know we have everything to
hope from the anxiety and experience of your
father. Come, then, with Alice, into this cavern,
where you, at least, will be safe from the murderous rifles of our enemies, and where you
may bestow a care suited to your gentle natures
on our unfortunate comrade.”
The sisters followed him into the outer cave,
where David was beginning, by his sighs,
to give symptoms of returning consciousness,
and then commending the wounded man to
their attention, he immediately prepared to
leave them.
“Duncan!” said the tremulous voice of Cora,
when he had reached the mouth of the cavern.
He turned and beheld the speaker, whose color
had changed to a deadly paleness, and whose
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lips quivered, gazing after him, with an expression of interest which immediately recalled
him to her side. “Remember, Duncan, how necessary your safety is to our own–how you bear
a father’s sacred trust–how much depends on
your discretion and care–in short,” she added,
while the telltale blood stole over her features,
crimsoning her very temples, “how very deservedly dear you are to all of the name of
Munro.”
“If anything could add to my own base love
of life,” said Heyward, suffering his unconscious eyes to wander to the youthful form of
the silent Alice, “it would be so kind an assurance. As major of the Sixtieth, our honest host
will tell you I must take my share of the fray;
but our task will be easy; it is merely to keep
these blood-hounds at bay for a few hours.”
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Without waiting for a reply, he tore himself
from the presence of the sisters, and joined the
scout and his companions, who still lay within
the protection of the little chasm between the
two caves.
“I tell you, Uncas,” said the former, as Heyward joined them, “you are wasteful of your
powder, and the kick of the rifle disconcerts
your aim! Little powder, light lead, and a long
arm, seldom fail of bringing the death screech
from a Mingo! At least, such has been my experience with the creatur’s. Come, friends: let
us to our covers, for no man can tell when or
where a Maqua12 will strike his blow.”
12 Mingo was the Delaware term of the Five Nations.
Maquas was the name given them by the Dutch. The
French, from their first intercourse with them, called
them Iroquois.
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The Indians silently repaired to their appointed stations, which were fissures in the
rocks, whence they could command the approaches to the foot of the falls. In the center of the little island, a few short and stunted
pines had found root, forming a thicket, into
which Hawkeye darted with the swiftness of
a deer, followed by the active Duncan. Here
they secured themselves, as well as circumstances would permit, among the shrubs and
fragments of stone that were scattered about
the place. Above them was a bare, rounded
rock, on each side of which the water played
its gambols, and plunged into the abysses beneath, in the manner already described. As
the day had now dawned, the opposite shores
no longer presented a confused outline, but
they were able to look into the woods, and distinguish objects beneath a canopy of gloomy
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pines.
A long and anxious watch succeeded, but
without any further evidences of a renewed
attack; and Duncan began to hope that their
fire had proved more fatal than was supposed,
and that their enemies had been effectually repulsed. When he ventured to utter this impression to his companions, it was met by Hawkeye
with an incredulous shake of the head.
“You know not the nature of a Maqua, if
you think he is so easily beaten back without
a scalp!” he answered. “If there was one of
the imps yelling this morning, there were forty!
and they know our number and quality too
well to give up the chase so soon. Hist! look
into the water above, just where it breaks over
the rocks. I am no mortal, if the risky devils
haven’t swam down upon the very pitch, and,
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as bad luck would have it, they have hit the
head of the island. Hist! man, keep close! or
the hair will be off your crown in the turning of
a knife!”
Heyward lifted his head from the cover, and
beheld what he justly considered a prodigy of
rashness and skill. The river had worn away
the edge of the soft rock in such a manner as to
render its first pitch less abrupt and perpendicular than is usual at waterfalls. With no other
guide than the ripple of the stream where it met
the head of the island, a party of their insatiable
foes had ventured into the current, and swam
down upon this point, knowing the ready access it would give, if successful, to their intended victims.
As Hawkeye ceased speaking, four human
heads could be seen peering above a few logs
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of drift-wood that had lodged on these naked
rocks, and which had probably suggested the
idea of the practicability of the hazardous undertaking. At the next moment, a fifth form
was seen floating over the green edge of the
fall, a little from the line of the island. The savage struggled powerfully to gain the point of
safety, and, favored by the glancing water, he
was already stretching forth an arm to meet the
grasp of his companions, when he shot away
again with the shirling current, appeared to
rise into the air, with uplifted arms and starting eyeballs, and fell, with a sudden plunge,
into that deep and yawning abyss over which
he hovered. A single, wild, despairing shriek
rose from the cavern, and all was hushed again
as the grave.
The first generous impulse of Duncan was to
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rush to the rescue of the hapless wretch; but he
felt himself bound to the spot by the iron grasp
of the immovable scout.
“Would ye bring certain death upon us, by
telling the Mingoes where we lie?” demanded
Hawkeye, sternly; “‘Tis a charge of powder
saved, and ammunition is as precious now as
breath to a worried deer! Freshen the priming of your pistols–the midst of the falls is apt
to dampen the brimstone–and stand firm for a
close struggle, while I fire on their rush.”
He placed a finger in his mouth, and drew a
long, shrill whistle, which was answered from
the rocks that were guarded by the Mohicans.
Duncan caught glimpses of heads above the
scattered drift-wood, as this signal rose on the
air, but they disappeared again as suddenly
as they had glanced upon his sight. A low,
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rustling sound next drew his attention behind
him, and turning his head, he beheld Uncas
within a few feet, creeping to his side. Hawkeye spoke to him in Delaware, when the young
chief took his position with singular caution
and undisturbed coolness. To Heyward this
was a moment of feverish and impatient suspense; though the scout saw fit to select it as a
fit occasion to read a lecture to his more youthful associates on the art of using firearms with
discretion.
“Of all we’pons,” he commenced, “the long
barreled, true-grooved, soft-metaled rifle is the
most dangerous in skillful hands, though it
wants a strong arm, a quick eye, and great
judgment in charging, to put forth all its beauties. The gunsmiths can have but little insight
into their trade when they make their fowling-
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pieces and short horsemen’s–”
He was interrupted by the low but expressive “hugh” of Uncas.
“I see them, boy, I see them!” continued
Hawkeye; “they are gathering for the rush, or
they would keep their dingy backs below the
logs. Well, let them,” he added, examining his
flint; “the leading man certainly comes on to
his death, though it should be Montcalm himself!”
At that moment the woods were filled with
another burst of cries, and at the signal four
savages sprang from the cover of the driftwood. Heyward felt a burning desire to rush
forward to meet them, so intense was the delirious anxiety of the moment; but he was restrained by the deliberate examples of the scout
and Uncas.
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When their foes, who had leaped over the
black rocks that divided them, with long
bounds, uttering the wildest yells, were within
a few rods, the rifle of Hawkeye slowly rose
among the shrubs, and poured out its fatal
contents. The foremost Indian bounded like
a stricken deer, and fell headlong among the
clefts of the island.
“Now, Uncas!” cried the scout, drawing
his long knife, while his quick eyes began to
flash with ardor, “take the last of the screeching imps; of the other two we are sartain!”
He was obeyed; and but two enemies remained to be overcome. Heyward had given
one of his pistols to Hawkeye, and together
they rushed down a little declivity toward their
foes; they discharged their weapons at the
same instant, and equally without success.
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“I know’d it! and I said it!” muttered the
scout, whirling the despised little implement
over the falls with bitter disdain. “Come on,
ye bloody minded hell-hounds! ye meet a man
without a cross!”
The words were barely uttered, when he encountered a savage of gigantic stature, of the
fiercest mien. At the same moment, Duncan
found himself engaged with the other, in a similar contest of hand to hand. With ready skill,
Hawkeye and his antagonist each grasped that
uplifted arm of the other which held the dangerous knife. For near a minute they stood
looking one another in the eye, and gradually exerting the power of their muscles for the
mastery.
At length, the toughened sinews of the white
man prevailed over the less practiced limbs of
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the native. The arm of the latter slowly gave
way before the increasing force of the scout,
who, suddenly wresting his armed hand from
the grasp of the foe, drove the sharp weapon
through his naked bosom to the heart. In the
meantime, Heyward had been pressed in a
more deadly struggle. His slight sword was
snapped in the first encounter. As he was destitute of any other means of defense, his safety
now depended entirely on bodily strength and
resolution. Though deficient in neither of these
qualities, he had met an enemy every way his
equal. Happily, he soon succeeded in disarming his adversary, whose knife fell on the rock
at their feet; and from this moment it became a
fierce struggle who should cast the other over
the dizzy height into a neighboring cavern of
the falls. Every successive struggle brought
them nearer to the verge, where Duncan per-
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ceived the final and conquering effort must be
made. Each of the combatants threw all his
energies into that effort, and the result was,
that both tottered on the brink of the precipice.
Heyward felt the grasp of the other at his
throat, and saw the grim smile the savage gave,
under the revengeful hope that he hurried his
enemy to a fate similar to his own, as he felt his
body slowly yielding to a resistless power, and
the young man experienced the passing agony
of such a moment in all its horrors. At that instant of extreme danger, a dark hand and glancing knife appeared before him; the Indian released his hold, as the blood flowed freely from
around the severed tendons of the wrist; and
while Duncan was drawn backward by the saving hand of Uncas, his charmed eyes still were
riveted on the fierce and disappointed countenance of his foe, who fell sullenly and disap-
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pointed down the irrecoverable precipice.
“To cover! to cover!” cried Hawkeye, who
just then had despatched the enemy; “to cover,
for your lives! the work is but half ended!”
The young Mohican gave a shout of triumph, and followed by Duncan, he glided up
the acclivity they had descended to the combat,
and sought the friendly shelter of the rocks and
shrubs.
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“They linger yet,
Avengers of their native land.”
–Gray
THE WARNING CALL of the scout was not
uttered without occasion. During the occurrence of the deadly encounter just related, the
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roar of the falls was unbroken by any human
sound whatever. It would seem that interest in
the result had kept the natives on the opposite
shores in breathless suspense, while the quick
evolutions and swift changes in the positions of
the combatants effectually prevented a fire that
might prove dangerous alike to friend and enemy. But the moment the struggle was decided,
a yell arose as fierce and savage as wild and revengeful passions could throw into the air. It
was followed by the swift flashes of the rifles,
which sent their leaden messengers across the
rock in volleys, as though the assailants would
pour out their impotent fury on the insensible
scene of the fatal contest.
A steady, though deliberate return was made
from the rifle of Chingachgook, who had maintained his post throughout the fray with un-
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moved resolution. When the triumphant shout
of Uncas was borne to his ears, the gratified
father raised his voice in a single responsive
cry, after which his busy piece alone proved
that he still guarded his pass with unwearied
diligence. In this manner many minutes flew
by with the swiftness of thought; the rifles of
the assailants speaking, at times, in rattling
volleys, and at others in occasional, scattering shots. Though the rock, the trees, and the
shrubs, were cut and torn in a hundred places
around the besieged, their cover was so close,
and so rigidly maintained, that, as yet, David
had been the only sufferer in their little band.
“Let them burn their powder,” said the deliberate scout, while bullet after bullet whizzed
by the place where he securely lay; “there will
be a fine gathering of lead when it is over, and I
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fancy the imps will tire of the sport afore these
old stones cry out for mercy! Uncas, boy, you
waste the kernels by overcharging; and a kicking rifle never carries a true bullet. I told you
to take that loping miscreant under the line of
white point; now, if your bullet went a hair’s
breadth it went two inches above it. The life
lies low in a Mingo, and humanity teaches us
to make a quick end to the sarpents.”
A quiet smile lighted the haughty features of
the young Mohican, betraying his knowledge
of the English language as well as of the other’s
meaning; but he suffered it to pass away without vindication of reply.
“I cannot permit you to accuse Uncas of
want of judgment or of skill,” said Duncan; “he
saved my life in the coolest and readiest manner, and he has made a friend who never will
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require to be reminded of the debt he owes.”
Uncas partly raised his body, and offered his
hand to the grasp of Heyward. During this act
of friendship, the two young men exchanged
looks of intelligence which caused Duncan to
forget the character and condition of his wild
associate. In the meanwhile, Hawkeye, who
looked on this burst of youthful feeling with a
cool but kind regard made the following reply:
“Life is an obligation which friends often
owe each other in the wilderness. I dare say
I may have served Uncas some such turn myself before now; and I very well remember that
he has stood between me and death five different times; three times from the Mingoes, once
in crossing Horican, and–”
“That bullet was better aimed than common!”
exclaimed Duncan, involuntarily
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shrinking from a shot which struck the rock at
his side with a smart rebound.
Hawkeye laid his hand on the shapeless
metal, and shook his head, as he examined it,
saying, “Falling lead is never flattened, had
it come from the clouds this might have happened.”
But the rifle of Uncas was deliberately raised
toward the heavens, directing the eyes of his
companions to a point, where the mystery was
immediately explained. A ragged oak grew on
the right bank of the river, nearly opposite to
their position, which, seeking the freedom of
the open space, had inclined so far forward that
its upper branches overhung that arm of the
stream which flowed nearest to its own shore.
Among the topmost leaves, which scantily concealed the gnarled and stunted limbs, a savage
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was nestled, partly concealed by the trunk of
the tree, and partly exposed, as though looking down upon them to ascertain the effect produced by his treacherous aim.
“These devils will scale heaven to circumvent us to our ruin,” said Hawkeye; “keep him
in play, boy, until I can bring ‘killdeer’ to bear,
when we will try his metal on each side of the
tree at once.”
Uncas delayed his fire until the scout uttered
the word.
The rifles flashed, the leaves and bark of the
oak flew into the air, and were scattered by
the wind, but the Indian answered their assault by a taunting laugh, sending down upon
them another bullet in return, that struck the
cap of Hawkeye from his head. Once more the
savage yells burst out of the woods, and the
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leaden hail whistled above the heads of the besieged, as if to confine them to a place where
they might become easy victims to the enterprise of the warrior who had mounted the tree.
“This must be looked to,” said the scout,
glancing about him with an anxious eye. “Uncas, call up your father; we have need of all our
we’pons to bring the cunning varmint from his
roost.”
The signal was instantly given; and, before Hawkeye had reloaded his rifle, they
were joined by Chingachgook. When his son
pointed out to the experienced warrior the situation of their dangerous enemy, the usual
exclamatory “hugh” burst from his lips; after which, no further expression of surprise or
alarm was suffered to escape him. Hawkeye
and the Mohicans conversed earnestly together
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in Delaware for a few moments, when each
quietly took his post, in order to execute the
plan they had speedily devised.
The warrior in the oak had maintained a
quick, though ineffectual fire, from the moment
of his discovery. But his aim was interrupted
by the vigilance of his enemies, whose rifles instantaneously bore on any part of his person
that was left exposed. Still his bullets fell in the
center of the crouching party. The clothes of
Heyward, which rendered him peculiarly conspicuous, were repeatedly cut, and once blood
was drawn from a slight wound in his arm.
At length, emboldened by the long and patient watchfulness of his enemies, the Huron
attempted a better and more fatal aim. The
quick eyes of the Mohicans caught the dark
line of his lower limbs incautiously exposed
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through the thin foliage, a few inches from the
trunk of the tree. Their rifles made a common report, when, sinking on his wounded
limb, part of the body of the savage came into
view. Swift as thought, Hawkeye seized the advantage, and discharged his fatal weapon into
the top of the oak. The leaves were unusually agitated; the dangerous rifle fell from its
commanding elevation, and after a few moments of vain struggling, the form of the savage was seen swinging in the wind, while he
still grasped a ragged and naked branch of the
tree with hands clenched in desperation.
“Give him, in pity, give him the contents of
another rifle,” cried Duncan, turning away his
eyes in horror from the spectacle of a fellow
creature in such awful jeopardy.
“Not a karnel!”
exclaimed the obdurate
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Hawkeye; “his death is certain, and we have
no powder to spare, for Indian fights sometimes last for days; ‘tis their scalps or ours! and
God, who made us, has put into our natures the
craving to keep the skin on the head.”
Against this stern and unyielding morality,
supported as it was by such visible policy, there
was no appeal. From that moment the yells in
the forest once more ceased, the fire was suffered to decline, and all eyes, those of friends as
well as enemies, became fixed on the hopeless
condition of the wretch who was dangling between heaven and earth. The body yielded to
the currents of air, and though no murmur or
groan escaped the victim, there were instants
when he grimly faced his foes, and the anguish of cold despair might be traced, through
the intervening distance, in possession of his
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swarthy lineaments. Three several times the
scout raised his piece in mercy, and as often,
prudence getting the better of his intention, it
was again silently lowered. At length one hand
of the Huron lost its hold, and dropped exhausted to his side. A desperate and fruitless
struggle to recover the branch succeeded, and
then the savage was seen for a fleeting instant,
grasping wildly at the empty air. The lightning
is not quicker than was the flame from the rifle
of Hawkeye; the limbs of the victim trembled
and contracted, the head fell to the bosom, and
the body parted the foaming waters like lead,
when the element closed above it, in its ceaseless velocity, and every vestige of the unhappy
Huron was lost forever.
No shout of triumph succeeded this important advantage, but even the Mohicans
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gazed at each other in silent horror. A single
yell burst from the woods, and all was again
still. Hawkeye, who alone appeared to reason on the occasion, shook his head at his own
momentary weakness, even uttering his selfdisapprobation aloud.
“‘Twas the last charge in my horn and the
last bullet in my pouch, and ‘twas the act of a
boy!” he said; “what mattered it whether he
struck the rock living or dead! feeling would
soon be over. Uncas, lad, go down to the canoe,
and bring up the big horn; it is all the powder
we have left, and we shall need it to the last
grain, or I am ignorant of the Mingo nature.”
The young Mohican complied, leaving the
scout turning over the useless contents of his
pouch, and shaking the empty horn with renewed discontent. From this unsatisfactory
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examination, however, he was soon called by
a loud and piercing exclamation from Uncas,
that sounded, even to the unpracticed ears of
Duncan, as the signal of some new and unexpected calamity. Every thought filled with
apprehension for the previous treasure he had
concealed in the cavern, the young man started
to his feet, totally regardless of the hazard he
incurred by such an exposure. As if actuated
by a common impulse, his movement was imitated by his companions, and, together they
rushed down the pass to the friendly chasm,
with a rapidity that rendered the scattering fire
of their enemies perfectly harmless. The unwonted cry had brought the sisters, together
with the wounded David, from their place of
refuge; and the whole party, at a single glance,
was made acquainted with the nature of the
disaster that had disturbed even the practiced
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stoicism of their youthful Indian protector.
At a short distance from the rock, their little bark was to be seen floating across the eddy,
toward the swift current of the river, in a manner which proved that its course was directed
by some hidden agent. The instant this unwelcome sight caught the eye of the scout, his rifle
was leveled as by instinct, but the barrel gave
no answer to the bright sparks of the flint.
“‘Tis too late, ‘tis too late!” Hawkeye exclaimed, dropping the useless piece in bitter
disappointment; “the miscreant has struck the
rapid; and had we powder, it could hardly
send the lead swifter than he now goes!”
The adventurous Huron raised his head
above the shelter of the canoe, and, while it
glided swiftly down the stream, he waved his
hand, and gave forth the shout, which was the
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known signal of success. His cry was answered
by a yell and a laugh from the woods, as tauntingly exulting as if fifty demons were uttering
their blasphemies at the fall of some Christian
soul.
“Well may you laugh, ye children of the
devil!” said the scout, seating himself on a projection of the rock, and suffering his gun to fall
neglected at his feet, “for the three quickest and
truest rifles in these woods are no better than so
many stalks of mullein, or the last year’s horns
of a buck!”
“What is to be done?” demanded Duncan,
losing the first feeling of disappointment in a
more manly desire for exertion; “what will become of us?”
Hawkeye made no other reply than by passing his finger around the crown of his head,
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in a manner so significant, that none who witnessed the action could mistake its meaning.
“Surely, surely, our case is not so desperate!”
exclaimed the youth; “the Hurons are not here;
we may make good the caverns, we may oppose their landing.”
“With what?” coolly demanded the scout.
“The arrows of Uncas, or such tears as women
shed! No, no; you are young, and rich, and
have friends, and at such an age I know it is
hard to die! But,” glancing his eyes at the Mohicans, “let us remember we are men without a
cross, and let us teach these natives of the forest
that white blood can run as freely as red, when
the appointed hour is come.”
Duncan turned quickly in the direction indicated by the other’s eyes, and read a confirmation of his worst apprehensions in the conduct
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of the Indians. Chingachgook, placing himself
in a dignified posture on another fragment of
the rock, had already laid aside his knife and
tomahawk, and was in the act of taking the
eagle’s plume from his head, and smoothing
the solitary tuft of hair in readiness to perform
its last and revolting office. His countenance
was composed, though thoughtful, while his
dark, gleaming eyes were gradually losing the
fierceness of the combat in an expression better
suited to the change he expected momentarily
to undergo.
“Our case is not, cannot be so hopeless!” said
Duncan; “even at this very moment succor may
be at hand. I see no enemies! They have sickened of a struggle in which they risk so much
with so little prospect of gain!”
“It may be a minute, or it may be an hour,
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afore the wily sarpents steal upon us, and it
is quite in natur’ for them to be lying within
hearing at this very moment,” said Hawkeye;
“but come they will, and in such a fashion as
will leave us nothing to hope! Chingachgook”–
he spoke in Delaware–“my brother, we have
fought our last battle together, and the Maquas
will triumph in the death of the sage man of the
Mohicans, and of the pale face, whose eyes can
make night as day, and level the clouds to the
mists of the springs!”
“Let the Mingo women go weep over the
slain!” returned the Indian, with characteristic
pride and unmoved firmness; “the Great Snake
of the Mohicans has coiled himself in their wigwams, and has poisoned their triumph with
the wailings of children, whose fathers have
not returned! Eleven warriors lie hid from
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the graves of their tribes since the snows have
melted, and none will tell where to find them
when the tongue of Chingachgook shall be
silent! Let them draw the sharpest knife, and
whirl the swiftest tomahawk, for their bitterest enemy is in their hands. Uncas, topmost
branch of a noble trunk, call on the cowards to
hasten, or their hearts will soften, and they will
change to women!”
“They look among the fishes for their dead!”
returned the low, soft voice of the youthful
chieftain; “the Hurons float with the slimy eels!
They drop from the oaks like fruit that is ready
to be eaten! and the Delawares laugh!”
“Ay, ay,” muttered the scout, who had listened to this peculiar burst of the natives with
deep attention; “they have warmed their Indian feelings, and they’ll soon provoke the
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Maquas to give them a speedy end. As for me,
who am of the whole blood of the whites, it is
befitting that I should die as becomes my color,
with no words of scoffing in my mouth, and
without bitterness at the heart!”
“Why die at all!” said Cora, advancing from
the place where natural horror had, until this
moment, held her riveted to the rock; “the path
is open on every side; fly, then, to the woods,
and call on God for succor. Go, brave men, we
owe you too much already; let us no longer involve you in our hapless fortunes!”
“You but little know the craft of the Iroquois,
lady, if you judge they have left the path open
to the woods!” returned Hawkeye, who, however, immediately added in his simplicity, “the
down stream current, it is certain, might soon
sweep us beyond the reach of their rifles or the
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sound of their voices.”
“Then try the river. Why linger to add to
the number of the victims of our merciless enemies?”
“Why,” repeated the scout, looking about
him proudly; “because it is better for a man to
die at peace with himself than to live haunted
by an evil conscience! What answer could we
give Munro, when he asked us where and how
we left his children?”
“Go to him, and say that you left them with a
message to hasten to their aid,” returned Cora,
advancing nigher to the scout in her generous ardor; “that the Hurons bear them into
the northern wilds, but that by vigilance and
speed they may yet be rescued; and if, after
all, it should please heaven that his assistance
come too late, bear to him,” she continued,
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her voice gradually lowering, until it seemed
nearly choked, “the love, the blessings, the final prayers of his daughters, and bid him not
mourn their early fate, but to look forward with
humble confidence to the Christian’s goal to
meet his children.” The hard, weather-beaten
features of the scout began to work, and when
she had ended, he dropped his chin to his
hand, like a man musing profoundly on the nature of the proposal.
“There is reason in her words!” at length
broke from his compressed and trembling lips;
“ay, and they bear the spirit of Christianity;
what might be right and proper in a red-skin,
may be sinful in a man who has not even a cross
in blood to plead for his ignorance. Chingachgook! Uncas! hear you the talk of the darkeyed woman?”
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He now spoke in Delaware to his companions, and his address, though calm and deliberate, seemed very decided. The elder Mohican heard with deep gravity, and appeared to
ponder on his words, as though he felt the importance of their import. After a moment of
hesitation, he waved his hand in assent, and
uttered the English word “Good!” with the peculiar emphasis of his people. Then, replacing his knife and tomahawk in his girdle, the
warrior moved silently to the edge of the rock
which was most concealed from the banks of
the river. Here he paused a moment, pointed
significantly to the woods below, and saying a
few words in his own language, as if indicating
his intended route, he dropped into the water,
and sank from before the eyes of the witnesses
of his movements.
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The scout delayed his departure to speak
to the generous girl, whose breathing became
lighter as she saw the success of her remonstrance.
“Wisdom is sometimes given to the young,
as well as to the old,” he said; “and what you
have spoken is wise, not to call it by a better
word. If you are led into the woods, that is such
of you as may be spared for awhile, break the
twigs on the bushes as you pass, and make the
marks of your trail as broad as you can, when,
if mortal eyes can see them, depend on having
a friend who will follow to the ends of the ‘arth
afore he desarts you.”
He gave Cora an affectionate shake of the
hand, lifted his rifle, and after regarding it
a moment with melancholy solicitude, laid it
carefully aside, and descended to the place
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where Chingachgook had just disappeared.
For an instant he hung suspended by the rock,
and looking about him, with a countenance of
peculiar care, he added bitterly, “Had the powder held out, this disgrace could never have
befallen!” then, loosening his hold, the water
closed above his head, and he also became lost
to view.
All eyes now were turned on Uncas, who
stood leaning against the ragged rock, in immovable composure. After waiting a short
time, Cora pointed down the river, and said:
“Your friends have not been seen, and are
now, most probably, in safety. Is it not time for
you to follow?”
“Uncas will stay,” the young Mohican
calmly answered in English.
“To increase the horror of our capture, and to
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diminish the chances of our release! Go, generous young man,” Cora continued, lowering
her eyes under the gaze of the Mohican, and
perhaps, with an intuitive consciousness of her
power; “go to my father, as I have said, and be
the most confidential of my messengers. Tell
him to trust you with the means to buy the freedom of his daughters. Go! ‘tis my wish, ‘tis my
prayer, that you will go!”
The settled, calm look of the young chief
changed to an expression of gloom, but he
no longer hesitated. With a noiseless step he
crossed the rock, and dropped into the troubled
stream. Hardly a breath was drawn by those
he left behind, until they caught a glimpse of
his head emerging for air, far down the current,
when he again sank, and was seen no more.
These sudden and apparently successful ex-
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periments had all taken place in a few minutes
of that time which had now become so precious. After a last look at Uncas, Cora turned
and with a quivering lip, addressed herself to
Heyward:
“I have heard of your boasted skill in the water, too, Duncan,” she said; “follow, then, the
wise example set you by these simple and faithful beings.”
“Is such the faith that Cora Munro would exact from her protector?” said the young man,
smiling mournfully, but with bitterness.
“This is not a time for idle subtleties and
false opinions,” she answered; “but a moment
when every duty should be equally considered.
To us you can be of no further service here, but
your precious life may be saved for other and
nearer friends.”
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He made no reply, though his eye fell wistfully on the beautiful form of Alice, who was
clinging to his arm with the dependency of an
infant.
“Consider,” continued Cora, after a pause,
during which she seemed to struggle with a
pang even more acute than any that her fears
had excited, “that the worst to us can be but
death; a tribute that all must pay at the good
time of God’s appointment.”
“There are evils worse than death,” said
Duncan, speaking hoarsely, and as if fretful at
her importunity, “but which the presence of
one who would die in your behalf may avert.”
Cora ceased her entreaties; and veiling her
face in her shawl, drew the nearly insensible
Alice after her into the deepest recess of the inner cavern.
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“Be gay securely;
Dispel, my fair, with smiles, the
tim’rous clouds,
That hang on thy clear brow.”
–Death of Agrippina
THE SUDDEN AND almost magical change,
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from the stirring incidents of the combat to the
stillness that now reigned around him, acted
on the heated imagination of Heyward like
some exciting dream. While all the images and
events he had witnessed remained deeply impressed on his memory, he felt a difficulty in
persuading him of their truth. Still ignorant of
the fate of those who had trusted to the aid of
the swift current, he at first listened intently to
any signal or sounds of alarm, which might announce the good or evil fortune of their hazardous undertaking. His attention was, however, bestowed in vain; for with the disappearance of Uncas, every sign of the adventurers
had been lost, leaving him in total uncertainty
of their fate.
In a moment of such painful doubt, Duncan did not hesitate to look around him, with-
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out consulting that protection from the rocks
which just before had been so necessary to his
safety. Every effort, however, to detect the least
evidence of the approach of their hidden enemies was as fruitless as the inquiry after his late
companions. The wooded banks of the river
seemed again deserted by everything possessing animal life. The uproar which had so lately
echoed through the vaults of the forest was
gone, leaving the rush of the waters to swell
and sink on the currents of the air, in the unmingled sweetness of nature. A fish-hawk,
which, secure on the topmost branches of a
dead pine, had been a distant spectator of the
fray, now swooped from his high and ragged
perch, and soared, in wide sweeps, above his
prey; while a jay, whose noisy voice had been
stilled by the hoarser cries of the savages, ventured again to open his discordant throat, as
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though once more in undisturbed possession of
his wild domains. Duncan caught from these
natural accompaniments of the solitary scene a
glimmering of hope; and he began to rally his
faculties to renewed exertions, with something
like a reviving confidence of success.
“The Hurons are not to be seen,” he said, addressing David, who had by no means recovered from the effects of the stunning blow he
had received; “let us conceal ourselves in the
cavern, and trust the rest to Providence.”
“I remember to have united with two comely
maidens, in lifting up our voices in praise
and thanksgiving,” returned the bewildered
singing-master; “since which time I have been
visited by a heavy judgment for my sins. I have
been mocked with the likeness of sleep, while
sounds of discord have rent my ears, such as
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might manifest the fullness of time, and that
nature had forgotten her harmony.”
“Poor fellow! thine own period was, in truth,
near its accomplishment! But arouse, and come
with me; I will lead you where all other sounds
but those of your own psalmody shall be excluded.”
“There is melody in the fall of the cataract,
and the rushing of many waters is sweet to the
senses!” said David, pressing his hand confusedly on his brow. “Is not the air yet filled with
shrieks and cries, as though the departed spirits of the damned–”
“Not now, not now,” interrupted the impatient Heyward, “they have ceased, and they
who raised them, I trust in God, they are gone,
too! everything but the water is still and at
peace; in, then, where you may create those
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sounds you love so well to hear.”
David smiled sadly, though not without a
momentary gleam of pleasure, at this allusion
to his beloved vocation. He no longer hesitated
to be led to a spot which promised such unalloyed gratification to his wearied senses; and
leaning on the arm of his companion, he entered the narrow mouth of the cave. Duncan
seized a pile of the sassafras, which he drew before the passage, studiously concealing every
appearance of an aperture. Within this fragile
barrier he arranged the blankets abandoned by
the foresters, darkening the inner extremity of
the cavern, while its outer received a chastened
light from the narrow ravine, through which
one arm of the river rushed to form the junction with its sister branch a few rods below.
“I like not the principle of the natives, which
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teaches them to submit without a struggle, in
emergencies that appear desperate,” he said,
while busied in this employment; “our own
maxim, which says, ‘while life remains there
is hope’, is more consoling, and better suited
to a soldier’s temperament. To you, Cora,
I will urge no words of idle encouragement;
your own fortitude and undisturbed reason
will teach you all that may become your sex;
but cannot we dry the tears of that trembling
weeper on your bosom?”
“I am calmer, Duncan,” said Alice, raising
herself from the arms of her sister, and forcing
an appearance of composure through her tears;
“much calmer, now. Surely, in this hidden spot
we are safe, we are secret, free from injury; we
will hope everything from those generous men
who have risked so much already in our be-
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half.”
“Now does our gentle Alice speak like a
daughter of Munro!” said Heyward, pausing
to press her hand as he passed toward the outer
entrance of the cavern. “With two such examples of courage before him, a man would
be ashamed to prove other than a hero.” He
then seated himself in the center of the cavern,
grasping his remaining pistol with a hand convulsively clenched, while his contracted and
frowning eye announced the sullen desperation of his purpose. “The Hurons, if they come,
may not gain our position so easily as they
think,” he slowly muttered; and propping his
head back against the rock, he seemed to await
the result in patience, though his gaze was
unceasingly bent on the open avenue to their
place of retreat.
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With the last sound of his voice, a deep, a
long, and almost breathless silence succeeded.
The fresh air of the morning had penetrated
the recess, and its influence was gradually felt
on the spirits of its inmates. As minute after
minute passed by, leaving them in undisturbed
security, the insinuating feeling of hope was
gradually gaining possession of every bosom,
though each one felt reluctant to give utterance
to expectations that the next moment might so
fearfully destroy.
David alone formed an exception to these
varying emotions. A gleam of light from the
opening crossed his wan countenance, and fell
upon the pages of the little volume, whose
leaves he was again occupied in turning, as if
searching for some song more fitted to their
condition than any that had yet met their eye.
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He was, most probably, acting all this time
under a confused recollection of the promised
consolation of Duncan. At length, it would
seem, his patient industry found its reward;
for, without explanation or apology, he pronounced aloud the words “Isle of Wight,” drew
a long, sweet sound from his pitch-pipe, and
then ran through the preliminary modulations
of the air whose name he had just mentioned,
with the sweeter tones of his own musical
voice.
“May not this prove dangerous?” asked
Cora, glancing her dark eye at Major Heyward.
“Poor fellow! his voice is too feeble to be
heard above the din of the falls,” was the answer; “beside, the cavern will prove his friend.
Let him indulge his passions since it may be
done without hazard.”
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“Isle of Wight!” repeated David, looking
about him with that dignity with which he
had long been wont to silence the whispering
echoes of his school; “‘tis a brave tune, and set
to solemn words! let it be sung with meet respect!”
After allowing a moment of stillness to enforce his discipline, the voice of the singer was
heard, in low, murmuring syllables, gradually stealing on the ear, until it filled the narrow vault with sounds rendered trebly thrilling
by the feeble and tremulous utterance produced by his debility. The melody, which no
weakness could destroy, gradually wrought its
sweet influence on the senses of those who
heard it. It even prevailed over the miserable
travesty of the song of David which the singer
had selected from a volume of similar effu-
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sions, and caused the sense to be forgotten in
the insinuating harmony of the sounds. Alice unconsciously dried her tears, and bent her
melting eyes on the pallid features of Gamut,
with an expression of chastened delight that
she neither affected or wished to conceal. Cora
bestowed an approving smile on the pious efforts of the namesake of the Jewish prince, and
Heyward soon turned his steady, stern look
from the outlet of the cavern, to fasten it, with
a milder character, on the face of David, or
to meet the wandering beams which at moments strayed from the humid eyes of Alice.
The open sympathy of the listeners stirred the
spirit of the votary of music, whose voice regained its richness and volume, without losing
that touching softness which proved its secret
charm. Exerting his renovated powers to their
utmost, he was yet filling the arches of the cave
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with long and full tones, when a yell burst into
the air without, that instantly stilled his pious
strains, choking his voice suddenly, as though
his heart had literally bounded into the passage
of his throat.
“We are lost!” exclaimed Alice, throwing
herself into the arms of Cora.
“Not yet, not yet,” returned the agitated but
undaunted Heyward: “the sound came from
the center of the island, and it has been produced by the sight of their dead companions.
We are not yet discovered, and there is still
hope.”
Faint and almost despairing as was the
prospect of escape, the words of Duncan were
not thrown away, for it awakened the powers of the sisters in such a manner that they
awaited the results in silence. A second yell
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soon followed the first, when a rush of voices
was heard pouring down the island, from its
upper to its lower extremity, until they reached
the naked rock above the caverns, where, after
a shout of savage triumph, the air continued
full of horrible cries and screams, such as man
alone can utter, and he only when in a state of
the fiercest barbarity.
The sounds quickly spread around them in
every direction. Some called to their fellows
from the water’s edge, and were answered
from the heights above. Cries were heard in
the startling vicinity of the chasm between the
two caves, which mingled with hoarser yells
that arose out of the abyss of the deep ravine.
In short, so rapidly had the savage sounds diffused themselves over the barren rock, that it
was not difficult for the anxious listeners to
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imagine they could be heard beneath, as in
truth they were above on every side of them.
In the midst of this tumult, a triumphant yell
was raised within a few yards of the hidden entrance to the cave. Heyward abandoned every
hope, with the belief it was the signal that they
were discovered. Again the impression passed
away, as he heard the voices collect near the
spot where the white man had so reluctantly
abandoned his rifle. Amid the jargon of Indian
dialects that he now plainly heard, it was easy
to distinguish not only words, but sentences,
in the patois of the Canadas. A burst of voices
had shouted simultaneously, “La Longue Carabine!” causing the opposite woods to re-echo
with a name which, Heyward well remembered, had been given by his enemies to a celebrated hunter and scout of the English camp,
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and who, he now learned for the first time, had
been his late companion.
“La Longue Carabine! La Longue Carabine!”
passed from mouth to mouth, until the whole
band appeared to be collected around a trophy
which would seem to announce the death of its
formidable owner. After a vociferous consultation, which was, at times, deafened by bursts
of savage joy, they again separated, filling the
air with the name of a foe, whose body, Heywood could collect from their expressions, they
hoped to find concealed in some crevice of the
island.
“Now,” he whispered to the trembling sisters, “now is the moment of uncertainty! if our
place of retreat escape this scrutiny, we are still
safe! In every event, we are assured, by what
has fallen from our enemies, that our friends
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have escaped, and in two short hours we may
look for succor from Webb.”
There were now a few minutes of fearful
stillness, during which Heyward well knew
that the savages conducted their search with
greater vigilance and method. More than once
he could distinguish their footsteps, as they
brushed the sassafras, causing the faded leaves
to rustle, and the branches to snap. At length,
the pile yielded a little, a corner of a blanket
fell, and a faint ray of light gleamed into the
inner part of the cave. Cora folded Alice to her
bosom in agony, and Duncan sprang to his feet.
A shout was at that moment heard, as if issuing
from the center of the rock, announcing that the
neighboring cavern had at length been entered.
In a minute, the number and loudness of the
voices indicated that the whole party was col-
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lected in and around that secret place.
As the inner passages to the two caves were
so close to each other, Duncan, believing that
escape was no longer possible, passed David
and the sisters, to place himself between the
latter and the first onset of the terrible meeting. Grown desperate by his situation, he drew
nigh the slight barrier which separated him
only by a few feet from his relentless pursuers,
and placing his face to the casual opening, he
even looked out with a sort of desperate indifference, on their movements.
Within reach of his arm was the brawny
shoulder of a gigantic Indian, whose deep and
authoritative voice appeared to give directions
to the proceedings of his fellows. Beyond him
again, Duncan could look into the vault opposite, which was filled with savages, upturning
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and rifling the humble furniture of the scout.
The wound of David had dyed the leaves of
sassafras with a color that the native well knew
as anticipating the season. Over this sign of
their success, they sent up a howl, like an opening from so many hounds who had recovered
a lost trail. After this yell of victory, they tore
up the fragrant bed of the cavern, and bore the
branches into the chasm, scattering the boughs,
as if they suspected them of concealing the person of the man they had so long hated and
feared. One fierce and wild-looking warrior
approached the chief, bearing a load of the
brush, and pointing exultingly to the deep red
stains with which it was sprinkled, uttered his
joy in Indian yells, whose meaning Heyward
was only enabled to comprehend by the frequent repetition of the name “La Longue Carabine!” When his triumph had ceased, he cast
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the brush on the slight heap Duncan had made
before the entrance of the second cavern, and
closed the view. His example was followed by
others, who, as they drew the branches from
the cave of the scout, threw them into one pile,
adding, unconsciously, to the security of those
they sought. The very slightness of the defense
was its chief merit, for no one thought of disturbing a mass of brush, which all of them believed, in that moment of hurry and confusion,
had been accidentally raised by the hands of
their own party.
As the blankets yielded before the outward
pressure, and the branches settled in the fissure of the rock by their own weight, forming
a compact body, Duncan once more breathed
freely. With a light step and lighter heart, he
returned to the center of the cave, and took the
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place he had left, where he could command a
view of the opening next the river. While he
was in the act of making this movement, the
Indians, as if changing their purpose by a common impulse, broke away from the chasm in
a body, and were heard rushing up the island
again, toward the point whence they had originally descended. Here another wailing cry betrayed that they were again collected around
the bodies of their dead comrades.
Duncan now ventured to look at his companions; for, during the most critical moments
of their danger, he had been apprehensive that
the anxiety of his countenance might communicate some additional alarm to those who
were so little able to sustain it.
“They are gone, Cora!” he whispered; “Alice, they are returned whence they came, and
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we are saved! To Heaven, that has alone delivered us from the grasp of so merciless an enemy, be all the praise!”
“Then to Heaven will I return my thanks!”
exclaimed the younger sister, rising from the
encircling arm of Cora, and casting herself with
enthusiastic gratitude on the naked rock; “to
that Heaven who has spared the tears of a grayheaded father; has saved the lives of those I so
much love.”
Both Heyward and the more temperate Cora
witnessed the act of involuntary emotion with
powerful sympathy, the former secretly believing that piety had never worn a form so lovely
as it had now assumed in the youthful person
of Alice. Her eyes were radiant with the glow
of grateful feelings; the flush of her beauty
was again seated on her cheeks, and her whole
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soul seemed ready and anxious to pour out
its thanksgivings through the medium of her
eloquent features. But when her lips moved,
the words they should have uttered appeared
frozen by some new and sudden chill. Her
bloom gave place to the paleness of death; her
soft and melting eyes grew hard, and seemed
contracting with horror; while those hands,
which she had raised, clasped in each other, toward heaven, dropped in horizontal lines before her, the fingers pointed forward in convulsed motion. Heyward turned the instant
she gave a direction to his suspicions, and
peering just above the ledge which formed the
threshold of the open outlet of the cavern, he
beheld the malignant, fierce and savage features of Le Renard Subtil.
In that moment of surprise,
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possession of Heyward did not desert him. He
observed by the vacant expression of the Indian’s countenance, that his eye, accustomed to
the open air had not yet been able to penetrate
the dusky light which pervaded the depth of
the cavern. He had even thought of retreating
beyond a curvature in the natural wall, which
might still conceal him and his companions,
when by the sudden gleam of intelligence that
shot across the features of the savage, he saw it
was too late, and that they were betrayed.
The look of exultation and brutal triumph
which announced this terrible truth was irresistibly irritating. Forgetful of everything but
the impulses of his hot blood, Duncan leveled
his pistol and fired. The report of the weapon
made the cavern bellow like an eruption from
a volcano; and when the smoke it vomited
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had been driven away before the current of
air which issued from the ravine the place so
lately occupied by the features of his treacherous guide was vacant. Rushing to the outlet,
Heyward caught a glimpse of his dark figure
stealing around a low and narrow ledge, which
soon hid him entirely from sight.
Among the savages a frightful stillness succeeded the explosion, which had just been
heard bursting from the bowels of the rock. But
when Le Renard raised his voice in a long and
intelligible whoop, it was answered by a spontaneous yell from the mouth of every Indian
within hearing of the sound.
The clamorous noises again rushed down
the island; and before Duncan had time to recover from the shock, his feeble barrier of brush
was scattered to the winds, the cavern was en-
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tered at both its extremities, and he and his
companions were dragged from their shelter
and borne into the day, where they stood surrounded by the whole band of the triumphant
Hurons.
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“I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have
overwatched!”
–Midsummer
Night’s
Dream
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THE INSTANT THE shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began to make his
observations on the appearance and proceedings of their captors. Contrary to the usages
of the natives in the wantonness of their success they had respected, not only the persons of
the trembling sisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had indeed been
repeatedly handled by different individuals of
the tribes with eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles; but before the customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the authoritative voice of the large warrior, already mentioned, stayed the uplifted
hand, and convinced Heyward that they were
to be reserved for some object of particular moment.
While, however, these manifestations of
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weakness were exhibited by the young and
vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued their search throughout both
caverns, with an activity that denoted they
were far from being satisfied with those fruits
of their conquest which had already been
brought to light. Unable to discover any new
victim, these diligent workers of vengeance
soon approached their male prisoners, pronouncing the name “La Longue Carabine,”
with a fierceness that could not be easily mistaken. Duncan affected not to comprehend
the meaning of their repeated and violent interrogatories, while his companion was spared
the effort of a similar deception by his ignorance of French. Wearied at length by their
importunities, and apprehensive of irritating
his captors by too stubborn a silence, the former looked about him in quest of Magua, who
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might interpret his answers to questions which
were at each moment becoming more earnest
and threatening.
The conduct of this savage had formed a
solitary exception to that of all his fellows.
While the others were busily occupied in seeking to gratify their childish passion for finery,
by plundering even the miserable effects of the
scout, or had been searching with such bloodthirsty vengeance in their looks for their absent owner, Le Renard had stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so
quiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already effected the grand purpose of his treachery. When the eyes of Heyward first met those
of his recent guide, he turned them away in
horror at the sinister though calm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however,
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he was able, with an averted face, to address
his successful enemy.
“Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior,”
said the reluctant Heyward, “to refuse telling
an unarmed man what his conquerors say.”
“They ask for the hunter who knows the
paths through the woods,” returned Magua, in
his broken English, laying his hand, at the same
time, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of
leaves with which a wound on his own shoulder was bandaged. “‘La Longue Carabine’! His
rifle is good, and his eye never shut; but, like
the short gun of the white chief, it is nothing
against the life of Le Subtil.”
“Le Renard is too brave to remember the
hurts received in war, or the hands that gave
them.”
“Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at
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the sugartree to taste his corn! who filled the
bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the
knife, whose tongue was peace, while his heart
was colored with blood! Did Magua say that
the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his
hand had dug it up?”
As Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser by reminding him of his own premeditated treachery, and disdained to deprecate his
resentment by any words of apology, he remained silent. Magua seemed also content to
rest the controversy as well as all further communication there, for he resumed the leaning
attitude against the rock from which, in momentary energy, he had arisen. But the cry of
“La Longue Carabine” was renewed the instant
the impatient savages perceived that the short
dialogue was ended.
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“You hear,” said Magua, with stubborn indifference: “the red Hurons call for the life of
‘The Long Rifle’, or they will have the blood of
him that keep him hid!”
“He is gone–escaped; he is far beyond their
reach.”
Renard smiled with cold contempt, as he answered:
“When the white man dies, he thinks he is
at peace; but the red men know how to torture
even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his
body? Let the Hurons see his scalp.”
“He is not dead, but escaped.”
Magua shook his head incredulously.
“Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a
fish, to swim without air! The white chief read
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in his books, and he believes the Hurons are
fools!”
“Though no fish, ‘The Long Rifle’ can swim.
He floated down the stream when the powder was all burned, and when the eyes of the
Hurons were behind a cloud.”
“And why did the white chief stay?” demanded the still incredulous Indian. “Is he a
stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp
burn his head?”
“That I am not stone, your dead comrade,
who fell into the falls, might answer, were
the life still in him,” said the provoked young
man, using, in his anger, that boastful language
which was most likely to excite the admiration
of an Indian. “The white man thinks none but
cowards desert their women.”
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Magua muttered a few words, inaudibly, between his teeth, before he continued, aloud:
“Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as
crawl in the bushes? Where is ‘Le Gros Serpent’?”
Duncan, who perceived by the use of these
Canadian appellations, that his late companions were much better known to his enemies
than to himself, answered, reluctantly: “He
also is gone down with the water.”
“‘Le Cerf Agile’ is not here?”
“I know not whom you call ‘The Nimble
Deer’,” said Duncan gladly profiting by any excuse to create delay.
“Uncas,” returned Magua, pronouncing the
Delaware name with even greater difficulty
than he spoke his English words. “‘Bounding
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Elk’ is what the white man says, when he calls
to the young Mohican.”
“Here is some confusion in names between
us, Le Renard,” said Duncan, hoping to provoke a discussion. “Daim is the French for deer,
and cerf for stag; elan is the true term, when
one would speak of an elk.”
“Yes,” muttered the Indian, in his native
tongue; “the pale faces are prattling women!
they have two words for each thing, while a
red-skin will make the sound of his voice speak
to him.” Then, changing his language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his provincial instructors. “The deer is
swift, but weak; the elk is swift, but strong; and
the son of ‘Le Serpent’ is ‘Le Cerf Agile.’ Has
he leaped the river to the woods?”
“If you mean the younger Delaware, he, too,
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has gone down with the water.”
As there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the escape, Magua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with
a readiness that afforded additional evidence
how little he would prize such worthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was manifestly different.
The Hurons had awaited the result of this
short dialogue with characteristic patience, and
with a silence that increased until there was a
general stillness in the band. When Heyward
ceased to speak, they turned their eyes, as one
man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive manner, an explanation of what had been
said. Their interpreter pointed to the river, and
made them acquainted with the result, as much
by the action as by the few words he uttered.
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When the fact was generally understood, the
savages raised a frightful yell, which declared
the extent of their disappointment. Some ran
furiously to the water’s edge, beating the air
with frantic gestures, while others spat upon
the element, to resent the supposed treason
it had committed against their acknowledged
rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the
least powerful and terrific of the band, threw
lowering looks, in which the fiercest passion
was only tempered by habitual self-command,
at those captives who still remained in their
power, while one or two even gave vent to
their malignant feelings by the most menacing
gestures, against which neither the sex nor the
beauty of the sisters was any protection. The
young soldier made a desperate but fruitless effort to spring to the side of Alice, when he saw
the dark hand of a savage twisted in the rich
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tresses which were flowing in volumes over
her shoulders, while a knife was passed around
the head from which they fell, as if to denote
the horrid manner in which it was about to
be robbed of its beautiful ornament. But his
hands were bound; and at the first movement
he made, he felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing his shoulder like a vise. Immediately conscious how
unavailing any struggle against such an overwhelming force must prove, he submitted to
his fate, encouraging his gentle companions by
a few low and tender assurances, that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they
performed.
But while Duncan resorted to these words of
consolation to quiet the apprehensions of the
sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive him-
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self. He well knew that the authority of an
Indian chief was so little conventional, that it
was oftener maintained by physical superiority than by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was, therefore, magnified exactly in proportion to the number of the savage
spirits by which they were surrounded. The
most positive mandate from him who seemed
the acknowledged leader, was liable to be violated at each moment by any rash hand that
might choose to sacrifice a victim to the manes
of some dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained an outward appearance of
calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into
his throat, whenever any of their fierce captors
drew nearer than common to the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their sullen, wandering
looks on those fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest assault.
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His apprehensions were, however, greatly
relieved, when he saw that the leader had
summoned his warriors to himself in counsel.
Their deliberations were short, and it would
seem, by the silence of most of the party, the
decision unanimous. By the frequency with
which the few speakers pointed in the direction
of the encampment of Webb, it was apparent
they dreaded the approach of danger from that
quarter. This consideration probably hastened
their determination, and quickened the subsequent movements.
During his short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his gravest fears, had leisure
to admire the cautious manner in which the
Hurons had made their approaches, even after
hostilities had ceased.
It has already been stated that the upper half
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of the island was a naked rock, and destitute
of any other defenses than a few scattered logs
of driftwood. They had selected this point to
make their descent, having borne the canoe
through the wood around the cataract for that
purpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel
a dozen men clinging to its sides had trusted
themselves to the direction of the canoe, which
was controlled by two of the most skillful warriors, in attitudes that enabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this arrangement, they touched the
head of the island at that point which had
proved so fatal to their first adventurers, but
with the advantages of superior numbers, and
the possession of firearms. That such had been
the manner of their descent was rendered quite
apparent to Duncan; for they now bore the
light bark from the upper end of the rock, and
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placed it in the water, near the mouth of the
outer cavern. As soon as this change was made,
the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and enter.
As resistance was impossible, and remonstrance useless, Heyward set the example of
submission, by leading the way into the canoe,
where he was soon seated with the sisters and
the still wondering David. Notwithstanding
the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little channels among the eddies and rapids of the
stream, they knew the common signs of such
a navigation too well to commit any material
blunder. When the pilot chosen for the task
of guiding the canoe had taken his station, the
whole band plunged again into the river, the
vessel glided down the current, and in a few
moments the captives found themselves on the
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south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the
point where they had struck it the preceding
evening.
Here was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the horses, to whose
panic their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune, were led from the cover of the woods,
and brought to the sheltered spot. The band
now divided. The great chief, so often mentioned, mounting the charger of Heyward, led
the way directly across the river, followed by
most of his people, and disappeared in the
woods, leaving the prisoners in charge of six
savages, at whose head was Le Renard Subtil.
Duncan witnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness.
He had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the savages, that he
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was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to
Montcalm. As the thoughts of those who are
in misery seldom slumber, and the invention is
never more lively than when it is stimulated by
hope, however feeble and remote, he had even
imagined that the parental feelings of Munro
were to be made instrumental in seducing him
from his duty to the king. For though the
French commander bore a high character for
courage and enterprise, he was also thought
to be expert in those political practises which
do not always respect the nicer obligations of
morality, and which so generally disgraced the
European diplomacy of that period.
All those busy and ingenious speculations
were now annihilated by the conduct of his
captors. That portion of the band who had
followed the huge warrior took the route to-
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ward the foot of the Horican, and no other expectation was left for himself and companions,
than that they were to be retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors. Anxious to know the worst, and willing, in such an
emergency, to try the potency of gold he overcame his reluctance to speak to Magua. Addressing himself to his former guide, who had
now assumed the authority and manner of one
who was to direct the future movements of the
party, he said, in tones as friendly and confiding as he could assume:
“I would speak to Magua, what is fit only for
so great a chief to hear.”
The Indian turned his eyes on the young soldier scornfully, as he answered:
“Speak; trees have no ears.”
“But the red Hurons are not deaf; and coun-
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sel that is fit for the great men of a nation would
make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will
not listen, the officer of the king knows how to
be silent.”
The savage spoke carelessly to his comrades,
who were busied, after their awkward manner,
in preparing the horses for the reception of the
sisters, and moved a little to one side, whither
by a cautious gesture he induced Heyward to
follow.
“Now, speak,” he said; “if the words are such
as Magua should hear.”
“Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honorable name given to him by his
Canada fathers,” commenced Heyward; “I see
his wisdom, and all that he has done for us,
and shall remember it when the hour to reward
him arrives. Yes! Renard has proved that he is
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not only a great chief in council, but one who
knows how to deceive his enemies!”
“What has Renard done?” coldly demanded
the Indian.
“What! has he not seen that the woods were
filled with outlying parties of the enemies, and
that the serpent could not steal through them
without being seen? Then, did he not lose his
path to blind the eyes of the Hurons? Did he
not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had
treated him ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And when he saw what he
wished to do, did we not aid him, by making
a false face, that the Hurons might think the
white man believed that his friend was his enemy? Is not all this true? And when Le Subtil had shut the eyes and stopped the ears of
his nation by his wisdom, did they not forget
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that they had once done him wrong, and forced
him to flee to the Mohawks? And did they not
leave him on the south side of the river, with
their prisoners, while they have gone foolishly
on the north? Does not Renard mean to turn
like a fox on his footsteps, and to carry to the
rich and gray-headed Scotchman his daughters? Yes, Magua, I see it all, and I have already been thinking how so much wisdom and
honesty should be repaid. First, the chief of
William Henry will give as a great chief should
for such a service. The medal13 of Magua will
no longer be of tin, but of beaten gold; his horn
13 It has long been a practice with the whites to conciliate the important men of the Indians by presenting
medals, which are worn in the place of their own rude
ornaments. Those given by the English generally bear
the impression of the reigning king, and those given by
the Americans that of the president.
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will run over with powder; dollars will be as
plenty in his pouch as pebbles on the shore of
Horican; and the deer will lick his hand, for
they will know it to be vain to fly from the rifle
he will carry! As for myself, I know not how
to exceed the gratitude of the Scotchman, but
I–yes, I will–”
“What will the young chief, who comes from
toward the sun, give?” demanded the Huron,
observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire
to end the enumeration of benefits with that
which might form the climax of an Indian’s
wishes.
“He will make the fire-water from the islands in the salt lake flow before the wigwam
of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be
lighter than the feathers of the humming-bird,
and his breath sweeter than the wild honey-
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suckle.”
Le Renard had listened gravely as Heyward
slowly proceeded in this subtle speech. When
the young man mentioned the artifice he supposed the Indian to have practised on his own
nation, the countenance of the listener was
veiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At
the allusion to the injury which Duncan affected to believe had driven the Huron from
his native tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed from the other’s eyes, as
induced the adventurous speaker to believe
he had struck the proper chord. And by the
time he reached the part where he so artfully
blended the thirst of vengeance with the desire
of gain, he had, at least, obtained a command of
the deepest attention of the savage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm, and with
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all the dignity of an Indian; but it was quite apparent, by the thoughtful expression of the listener’s countenance, that the answer was most
cunningly devised. The Huron mused a few
moments, and then laying his hand on the rude
bandages of his wounded shoulder, he said,
with some energy:
“Do friends make such marks?”
“Would ‘La Longue Carbine’ cut one so
slight on an enemy?”
“Do the Delawares crawl upon those they
love like snakes, twisting themselves to
strike?”
“Would ‘Le Gros Serpent’ have been heard
by the ears of one he wished to be deaf?”
“Does the white chief burn his powder in the
faces of his brothers?”
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“Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously
bent to kill?” returned Duncan, smiling with
well acted sincerity.
Another long and deliberate pause succeeded these sententious questions and ready
replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated.
In order to complete his victory, he was in the
act of recommencing the enumeration of the rewards, when Magua made an expressive gesture and said:
“Enough; Le Renard is a wise chief, and
what he does will be seen. Go, and keep the
mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the
time to answer.”
Heyward, perceiving that the eyes of his
companion were warily fastened on the rest
of the band, fell back immediately, in order to
avoid the appearance of any suspicious confed-
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eracy with their leader. Magua approached the
horses, and affected to be well pleased with the
diligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He
then signed to Heyward to assist the sisters into
the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the
English tongue, unless urged by some motive
of more than usual moment.
There was no longer any plausible pretext
for delay; and Duncan was obliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed
this office, he whispered his reviving hopes
in the ears of the trembling females, who,
through dread of encountering the savage
countenances of their captors, seldom raised
their eyes from the ground. The mare of David
had been taken with the followers of the large
chief; in consequence, its owner, as well as
Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The
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latter did not, however, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to retard the
speed of the party; for he still turned his longing looks in the direction of Fort Edward, in
the vain expectation of catching some sound
from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach of succor. When all were
prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed,
advancing in front to lead the party in person.
Next followed David, who was gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects
of the wound became less and less apparent.
The sisters rode in his rear, with Heyward at
their side, while the Indians flanked the party,
and brought up the close of the march, with a
caution that seemed never to tire.
In this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when Heyward ad-
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dressed some solitary word of comfort to the
females, or David gave vent to the moanings
of his spirit, in piteous exclamations, which he
intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction lay toward the south,
and in a course nearly opposite to the road to
William Henry. Notwithstanding this apparent
adherence in Magua to the original determination of his conquerors, Heyward could not believe his tempting bait was so soon forgotten;
and he knew the windings of an Indian’s path
too well to suppose that its apparent course
led directly to its object, when artifice was at
all necessary. Mile after mile was, however,
passed through the boundless woods, in this
painful manner, without any prospect of a termination to their journey. Heyward watched
the sun, as he darted his meridian rays through
the branches of the trees, and pined for the
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moment when the policy of Magua should
change their route to one more favorable to his
hopes. Sometimes he fancied the wary savage, despairing of passing the army of Montcalm in safety, was holding his way toward
a well-known border settlement, where a distinguished officer of the crown, and a favored
friend of the Six Nations, held his large possessions, as well as his usual residence. To be delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson
was far preferable to being led into the wilds of
Canada; but in order to effect even the former,
it would be necessary to traverse the forest for
many weary leagues, each step of which was
carrying him further from the scene of the war,
and, consequently, from the post, not only of
honor, but of duty.
Cora alone remembered the parting injunc-
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tions of the scout, and whenever an opportunity offered, she stretched forth her arm to
bend aside the twigs that met her hands. But
the vigilance of the Indians rendered this act of
precaution both difficult and dangerous. She
was often defeated in her purpose, by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became necessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and
occupy the limb by some gesture of feminine
apprehension. Once, and once only, was she
completely successful; when she broke down
the bough of a large sumach, and by a sudden thought, let her glove fall at the same instant. This sign, intended for those that might
follow, was observed by one of her conductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the bush in such a manner that
it appeared to proceed from the struggling of
some beast in its branches, and then laid his
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hand on his tomahawk, with a look so significant, that it put an effectual end to these stolen
memorials of their passage.
As there were horses, to leave the prints of
their footsteps, in both bands of the Indians,
this interruption cut off any probable hopes of
assistance being conveyed through the means
of their trail.
Heyward would have ventured a remonstrance had there been anything encouraging
in the gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, during all this time, seldom turned to
look at his followers, and never spoke. With
the sun for his only guide, or aided by such
blind marks as are only known to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens of pine, through occasional little fertile
vales, across brooks and rivulets, and over un-
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dulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct,
and nearly with the directness of a bird. He
never seemed to hesitate. Whether the path
was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or whether it lay beaten and plain before him, made no sensible difference in his
speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue
could not affect him. Whenever the eyes of the
wearied travelers rose from the decayed leaves
over which they trod, his dark form was to be
seen glancing among the stems of the trees in
front, his head immovably fastened in a forward position, with the light plume on his crest
fluttering in a current of air, made solely by the
swiftness of his own motion.
But all this diligence and speed were not
without an object. After crossing a low vale,
through which a gushing brook meandered, he
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suddenly ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the sisters were compelled
to alight in order to follow. When the summit
was gained, they found themselves on a level
spot, but thinly covered with trees, under one
of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as
if willing and ready to seek that rest which was
so much needed by the whole party.
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“Cursed be my tribe If I forgive
him.”
–Shylock
THE INDIAN HAD selected for this desirable
purpose one of those steep, pyramidal hills,
which bear a strong resemblance to artificial
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mounds, and which so frequently occur in the
valleys of America. The one in question was
high and precipitous; its top flattened, as usual;
but with one of its sides more than ordinarily
irregular. It possessed no other apparent advantage for a resting place, than in its elevation
and form, which might render defense easy,
and surprise nearly impossible. As Heyward,
however, no longer expected that rescue which
time and distance now rendered so improbable, he regarded these little peculiarities with
an eye devoid of interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort and condolence of his feebler companions. The Narragansetts were suffered to browse on the branches of the trees and
shrubs that were thinly scattered over the summit of the hill, while the remains of their provisions were spread under the shade of a beech,
that stretched its horizontal limbs like a canopy
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above them.
Notwithstanding the swiftness of their
flight, one of the Indians had found an opportunity to strike a straggling fawn with an arrow, and had borne the more preferable fragments of the victim, patiently on his shoulders,
to the stopping place. Without any aid from
the science of cookery, he was immediately employed, in common with his fellows, in gorging
himself with this digestible sustenance. Magua
alone sat apart, without participating in the
revolting meal, and apparently buried in the
deepest thought.
This abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, when he possessed the means of satisfying hunger, at length attracted the notice of
Heyward. The young man willingly believed
that the Huron deliberated on the most eligi-
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ble manner of eluding the vigilance of his associates. With a view to assist his plans by any
suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the
temptation, he left the beech, and straggled, as
if without an object, to the spot where Le Renard was seated.
“Has not Magua kept the sun in his face long
enough to escape all danger from the Canadians?” he asked, as though no longer doubtful
of the good intelligence established between
them; “and will not the chief of William Henry
be better pleased to see his daughters before
another night may have hardened his heart to
their loss, to make him less liberal in his reward?”
“Do the pale faces love their children less in
the morning than at night?” asked the Indian,
coldly.
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“By no means,” returned Heyward, anxious
to recall his error, if he had made one; “the
white man may, and does often, forget the
burial place of his fathers; he sometimes ceases
to remember those he should love, and has
promised to cherish; but the affection of a parent for his child is never permitted to die.”
“And is the heart of the white-headed chief
soft, and will he think of the babes that his
squaws have given him? He is hard on his warriors and his eyes are made of stone?”
“He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to
the sober and deserving he is a leader, both just
and humane. I have known many fond and
tender parents, but never have I seen a man
whose heart was softer toward his child. You
have seen the gray-head in front of his warriors, Magua; but I have seen his eyes swim-
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ming in water, when he spoke of those children
who are now in your power!”
Heyward paused, for he knew not how
to construe the remarkable expression that
gleamed across the swarthy features of the attentive Indian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance of the promised reward grew vivid
in his mind, while he listened to the sources of
parental feeling which were to assure its possession; but, as Duncan proceeded, the expression of joy became so fiercely malignant that it
was impossible not to apprehend it proceeded
from some passion more sinister than avarice.
“Go,” said the Huron, suppressing the
alarming exhibition in an instant, in a deathlike calmness of countenance; “go to the darkhaired daughter, and say, ‘Magua waits to
speak’ The father will remember what the child
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promises.”
Duncan, who interpreted this speech to express a wish for some additional pledge that
the promised gifts should not be withheld,
slowly and reluctantly repaired to the place
where the sisters were now resting from their
fatigue, to communicate its purport to Cora.
“You understand the nature of an Indian’s
wishes,” he concluded, as he led her toward
the place where she was expected, “and must
be prodigal of your offers of powder and blankets. Ardent spirits are, however, the most
prized by such as he; nor would it be amiss to
add some boon from your own hand, with that
grace you so well know how to practise. Remember, Cora, that on your presence of mind
and ingenuity, even your life, as well as that of
Alice, may in some measure depend.”
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“Heyward, and yours!”
“Mine is of little moment; it is already sold
to my king, and is a prize to be seized by any
enemy who may possess the power. I have
no father to expect me, and but few friends to
lament a fate which I have courted with the insatiable longings of youth after distinction. But
hush! we approach the Indian. Magua, the
lady with whom you wish to speak, is here.”
The Indian rose slowly from his seat, and
stood for near a minute silent and motionless.
He then signed with his hand for Heyward to
retire, saying, coldly:
“When the Huron talks to the women, his
tribe shut their ears.”
Duncan, still lingering, as if refusing to comply, Cora said, with a calm smile:
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“You hear, Heyward, and delicacy at least
should urge you to retire. Go to Alice, and comfort her with our reviving prospects.”
She waited until he had departed, and then
turning to the native, with the dignity of
her sex in her voice and manner, she added:
“What would Le Renard say to the daughter of
Munro?”
“Listen,” said the Indian, laying his hand
firmly upon her arm, as if willing to draw her
utmost attention to his words; a movement that
Cora as firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating the limb from his grasp: “Magua was born
a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of
the lakes; he saw the suns of twenty summers
make the snows of twenty winters run off in the
streams before he saw a pale face; and he was
happy! Then his Canada fathers came into the
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woods, and taught him to drink the fire-water,
and he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him
from the graves of his fathers, as they would
chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the
shores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to
the ‘city of cannon’ There he hunted and fished,
till the people chased him again through the
woods into the arms of his enemies. The chief,
who was born a Huron, was at last a warrior
among the Mohawks!”
“Something like this I had heard before,”
said Cora, observing that he paused to suppress those passions which began to burn with
too bright a flame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries.
“Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head
was not made of rock? Who gave him the firewater? who made him a villain? ‘Twas the pale
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faces, the people of your own color.”
“And am I answerable that thoughtless and
unprincipled men exist, whose shades of countenance may resemble mine?” Cora calmly demanded of the excited savage.
“No; Magua is a man, and not a fool; such
as you never open their lips to the burning
stream: the Great Spirit has given you wisdom!”
“What, then, have I do to, or say, in the matter of your misfortunes, not to say of your errors?”
“Listen,” repeated the Indian, resuming
his earnest attitude; “when his English and
French fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard
struck the war-post of the Mohawks, and went
out against his own nation. The pale faces
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have driven the red-skins from their hunting
grounds, and now when they fight, a white
man leads the way. The old chief at Horican,
your father, was the great captain of our warparty. He said to the Mohawks do this, and
do that, and he was minded. He made a law,
that if an Indian swallowed the fire-water, and
came into the cloth wigwams of his warriors,
it should not be forgotten. Magua foolishly
opened his mouth, and the hot liquor led him
into the cabin of Munro. What did the grayhead? let his daughter say.”
“He forgot not his words, and did justice, by
punishing the offender,” said the undaunted
daughter.
“Justice!” repeated the Indian, casting an
oblique glance of the most ferocious expression
at her unyielding countenance; “is it justice to
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make evil and then punish for it? Magua was
not himself; it was the fire-water that spoke and
acted for him! but Munro did believe it. The
Huron chief was tied up before all the palefaced warriors, and whipped like a dog.”
Cora remained silent, for she knew not how
to palliate this imprudent severity on the part
of her father in a manner to suit the comprehension of an Indian.
“See!” continued Magua, tearing aside the
slight calico that very imperfectly concealed his
painted breast; “here are scars given by knives
and bullets–of these a warrior may boast before
his nation; but the gray-head has left marks on
the back of the Huron chief that he must hide
like a squaw, under this painted cloth of the
whites.”
“I had thought,” resumed Cora, “that an In-
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dian warrior was patient, and that his spirit felt
not and knew not the pain his body suffered.”
“When the Chippewas tied Magua to the
stake, and cut this gash,” said the other, laying
his finger on a deep scar, “the Huron laughed
in their faces, and told them, Women struck so
light! His spirit was then in the clouds! But
when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay
under the birch. The spirit of a Huron is never
drunk; it remembers forever!”
“But it may be appeased. If my father has
done you this injustice, show him how an
Indian can forgive an injury, and take back
his daughters. You have heard from Major
Heyward–”
Magua shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much despised.
“What would you have?” continued Cora,
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after a most painful pause, while the conviction forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine and generous Duncan had been cruelly
deceived by the cunning of the savage.
“What a Huron loves–good for good; bad for
bad!”
“You would, then, revenge the injury inflicted by Munro on his helpless daughters.
Would it not be more like a man to go before
his face, and take the satisfaction of a warrior?”
“The arms of the pale faces are long, and
their knives sharp!” returned the savage, with
a malignant laugh: “why should Le Renard go
among the muskets of his warriors, when he
holds the spirit of the gray-head in his hand?”
“Name your intention, Magua,” said Cora,
struggling with herself to speak with steady
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calmness. “Is it to lead us prisoners to the
woods, or do you contemplate even some
greater evil? Is there no reward, no means
of palliating the injury, and of softening your
heart? At least, release my gentle sister, and
pour out all your malice on me. Purchase
wealth by her safety and satisfy your revenge
with a single victim. The loss of both his
daughters might bring the aged man to his
grave, and where would then be the satisfaction of Le Renard?”
“Listen,” said the Indian again. “The light
eyes can go back to the Horican, and tell the
old chief what has been done, if the dark-haired
woman will swear by the Great Spirit of her fathers to tell no lie.”
“What must I promise?” demanded Cora,
still maintaining a secret ascendancy over the
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fierce native by the collected and feminine dignity of her presence.
“When Magua left his people his wife was
given to another chief; he has now made
friends with the Hurons, and will go back to
the graves of his tribe, on the shores of the great
lake. Let the daughter of the English chief follow, and live in his wigwam forever.”
However revolting a proposal of such a
character might prove to Cora, she retained,
notwithstanding her powerful disgust, sufficient self-command to reply, without betraying
the weakness.
“And what pleasure would Magua find in
sharing his cabin with a wife he did not love;
one who would be of a nation and color different from his own? It would be better to take
the gold of Munro, and buy the heart of some
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Huron maid with his gifts.”
The Indian made no reply for near a minute,
but bent his fierce looks on the countenance of
Cora, in such wavering glances, that her eyes
sank with shame, under an impression that for
the first time they had encountered an expression that no chaste female might endure. While
she was shrinking within herself, in dread of
having her ears wounded by some proposal
still more shocking than the last, the voice of
Magua answered, in its tones of deepest malignancy:
“When the blows scorched the back of the
Huron, he would know where to find a woman
to feel the smart. The daughter of Munro
would draw his water, hoe his corn, and cook
his venison. The body of the gray-head would
sleep among his cannon, but his heart would
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lie within reach of the knife of Le Subtil.”
“Monster! well dost thou deserve thy treacherous name,” cried Cora, in an ungovernable
burst of filial indignation. “None but a fiend
could meditate such a vengeance. But thou
overratest thy power! You shall find it is, in
truth, the heart of Munro you hold, and that it
will defy your utmost malice!”
The Indian answered this bold defiance by
a ghastly smile, that showed an unaltered purpose, while he motioned her away, as if to close
the conference forever. Cora, already regretting
her precipitation, was obliged to comply, for
Magua instantly left the spot, and approached
his gluttonous comrades. Heyward flew to the
side of the agitated female, and demanded the
result of a dialogue that he had watched at a
distance with so much interest. But, unwilling
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to alarm the fears of Alice, she evaded a direct
reply, betraying only by her anxious looks fastened on the slightest movements of her captors. To the reiterated and earnest questions
of her sister concerning their probable destination, she made no other answer than by pointing toward the dark group, with an agitation
she could not control, and murmuring as she
folded Alice to her bosom.
“There, there; read our fortunes in their
faces; we shall see; we shall see!”
The action, and the choked utterance of
Cora, spoke more impressively than any
words, and quickly drew the attention of her
companions on that spot where her own was
riveted with an intenseness that nothing but
the importance of the stake could create.
When Magua reached the cluster of lolling
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savages, who, gorged with their disgusting
meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence, he commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first syllables he
uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to
raise themselves in attitudes of respectful attention. As the Huron used his native language, the prisoners, notwithstanding the caution of the natives had kept them within the
swing of their tomahawks, could only conjecture the substance of his harangue from the nature of those significant gestures with which an
Indian always illustrates his eloquence.
At first, the language, as well as the action of
Magua, appeared calm and deliberative. When
he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening the
attention of his comrades, Heyward fancied,
by his pointing so frequently toward the di-
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rection of the great lakes, that he spoke of the
land of their fathers, and of their distant tribe.
Frequent indications of applause escaped the
listeners, who, as they uttered the expressive
“Hugh!” looked at each other in commendation of the speaker. Le Renard was too skillful to neglect his advantage. He now spoke of
the long and painful route by which they had
left those spacious grounds and happy villages,
to come and battle against the enemies of their
Canadian fathers. He enumerated the warriors
of the party; their several merits; their frequent
services to the nation; their wounds, and the
number of the scalps they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any present (and the subtle
Indian neglected none), the dark countenance
of the flattered individual gleamed with exultation, nor did he even hesitate to assert the
truth of the words, by gestures of applause and
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confirmation. Then the voice of the speaker
fell, and lost the loud, animated tones of triumph with which he had enumerated their
deeds of success and victory. He described the
cataract of Glenn’s; the impregnable position
of its rocky island, with its caverns and its numerous rapids and whirlpools; he named the
name of “La Longue Carabine,” and paused
until the forest beneath them had sent up the
last echo of a loud and long yell, with which
the hated appellation was received. He pointed
toward the youthful military captive, and described the death of a favorite warrior, who
had been precipitated into the deep ravine by
his hand. He not only mentioned the fate of
him who, hanging between heaven and earth,
had presented such a spectacle of horror to
the whole band, but he acted anew the terrors
of his situation, his resolution and his death,
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on the branches of a sapling; and, finally, he
rapidly recounted the manner in which each of
their friends had fallen, never failing to touch
upon their courage, and their most acknowledged virtues. When this recital of events was
ended, his voice once more changed, and became plaintive and even musical, in its low
guttural sounds. He now spoke of the wives
and children of the slain; their destitution; their
misery, both physical and moral; their distance;
and, at last, of their unavenged wrongs. Then
suddenly lifting his voice to a pitch of terrific
energy, he concluded by demanding:
“Are the Hurons dogs to bear this? Who
shall say to the wife of Menowgua that the
fishes have his scalp, and that his nation
have not taken revenge! Who will dare meet
the mother of Wassawattimie, that scornful
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woman, with his hands clean! What shall be
said to the old men when they ask us for scalps,
and we have not a hair from a white head to
give them! The women will point their fingers
at us. There is a dark spot on the names of
the Hurons, and it must be hid in blood!” His
voice was no longer audible in the burst of rage
which now broke into the air, as if the wood, instead of containing so small a band, was filled
with the nation. During the foregoing address
the progress of the speaker was too plainly
read by those most interested in his success
through the medium of the countenances of
the men he addressed. They had answered his
melancholy and mourning by sympathy and
sorrow; his assertions, by gestures of confirmation; and his boasting, with the exultation of
savages. When he spoke of courage, their looks
were firm and responsive; when he alluded
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to their injuries, their eyes kindled with fury;
when he mentioned the taunts of the women,
they dropped their heads in shame; but when
he pointed out their means of vengeance, he
struck a chord which never failed to thrill in the
breast of an Indian. With the first intimation
that it was within their reach, the whole band
sprang upon their feet as one man; giving utterance to their rage in the most frantic cries, they
rushed upon their prisoners in a body with
drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks. Heyward threw himself between the sisters and the
foremost, whom he grappled with a desperate strength that for a moment checked his violence. This unexpected resistance gave Magua
time to interpose, and with rapid enunciation
and animated gesture, he drew the attention of
the band again to himself. In that language he
knew so well how to assume, he diverted his
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comrades from their instant purpose, and invited them to prolong the misery of their victims. His proposal was received with acclamations, and executed with the swiftness of
thought.
Two powerful warriors cast themselves on
Heyward, while another was occupied in securing the less active singing-master. Neither
of the captives, however, submitted without
a desperate, though fruitless, struggle. Even
David hurled his assailant to the earth; nor
was Heyward secured until the victory over
his companion enabled the Indians to direct
their united force to that object. He was then
bound and fastened to the body of the sapling,
on whose branches Magua had acted the pantomime of the falling Huron. When the young
soldier regained his recollection, he had the
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painful certainty before his eyes that a common fate was intended for the whole party.
On his right was Cora in a durance similar to
his own, pale and agitated, but with an eye
whose steady look still read the proceedings of
their enemies. On his left, the withes which
bound her to a pine, performed that office for
Alice which her trembling limbs refused, and
alone kept her fragile form from sinking. Her
hands were clasped before her in prayer, but
instead of looking upward toward that power
which alone could rescue them, her unconscious looks wandered to the countenance of
Duncan with infantile dependency. David had
contended, and the novelty of the circumstance
held him silent, in deliberation on the propriety
of the unusual occurrence.
The vengeance of the Hurons had now taken
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a new direction, and they prepared to execute
it with that barbarous ingenuity with which
they were familiarized by the practise of centuries. Some sought knots, to raise the blazing
pile; one was riving the splinters of pine, in order to pierce the flesh of their captives with the
burning fragments; and others bent the tops of
two saplings to the earth, in order to suspend
Heyward by the arms between the recoiling
branches. But the vengeance of Magua sought
a deeper and more malignant enjoyment.
While the less refined monsters of the band
prepared, before the eyes of those who were
to suffer, these well-known and vulgar means
of torture, he approached Cora, and pointed
out, with the most malign expression of countenance, the speedy fate that awaited her:
“Ha!” he added, “what says the daughter of
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Munro? Her head is too good to find a pillow
in the wigwam of Le Renard; will she like it
better when it rolls about this hill a plaything
for the wolves? Her bosom cannot nurse the
children of a Huron; she will see it spit upon
by Indians!”
“What means the monster!” demanded the
astonished Heyward.
“Nothing!” was the firm reply. “He is a
savage, a barbarous and ignorant savage, and
knows not what he does. Let us find leisure,
with our dying breath, to ask for him penitence
and pardon.”
“Pardon!” echoed the fierce Huron, mistaking in his anger, the meaning of her words; “the
memory of an Indian is no longer than the arm
of the pale faces; his mercy shorter than their
justice! Say; shall I send the yellow hair to her
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father, and will you follow Magua to the great
lakes, to carry his water, and feed him with
corn?”
Cora beckoned him away, with an emotion
of disgust she could not control.
“Leave me,” she said, with a solemnity that
for a moment checked the barbarity of the Indian; “you mingle bitterness in my prayers;
you stand between me and my God!”
The slight impression produced on the savage was, however, soon forgotten, and he continued pointing, with taunting irony, toward
Alice.
“Look! the child weeps! She is too young to
die! Send her to Munro, to comb his gray hairs,
and keep life in the heart of the old man.”
Cora could not resist the desire to look upon
her youthful sister, in whose eyes she met an
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imploring glance, that betrayed the longings of
nature.
“What says he, dearest Cora?” asked the
trembling voice of Alice. “Did he speak of
sending me to our father?”
For many moments the elder sister looked
upon the younger, with a countenance that wavered with powerful and contending emotions.
At length she spoke, though her tones had lost
their rich and calm fullness, in an expression of
tenderness that seemed maternal.
“Alice,” she said, “the Huron offers us both
life, nay, more than both; he offers to restore
Duncan, our invaluable Duncan, as well as
you, to our friends–to our father–to our heartstricken, childless father, if I will bow down
this rebellious, stubborn pride of mine, and
consent–”
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Her voice became choked, and clasping her
hands, she looked upward, as if seeking, in her
agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infinite.
“Say on,” cried Alice; “to what, dearest
Cora? Oh! that the proffer were made to me!
to save you, to cheer our aged father, to restore
Duncan, how cheerfully could I die!”
“Die!” repeated Cora, with a calmer and
firmer voice, “that were easy! Perhaps the alternative may not be less so. He would have
me,” she continued, her accents sinking under
a deep consciousness of the degradation of the
proposal, “follow him to the wilderness; go to
the habitations of the Hurons; to remain there;
in short, to become his wife! Speak, then, Alice;
child of my affections! sister of my love! And
you, too, Major Heyward, aid my weak reason
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with your counsel. Is life to be purchased by
such a sacrifice? Will you, Alice, receive it at
my hands at such a price? And you, Duncan,
guide me; control me between you; for I am
wholly yours!”
“Would I!” echoed the indignant and astonished youth. “Cora! Cora! you jest with our
misery! Name not the horrid alternative again;
the thought itself is worse than a thousand
deaths.”
“That such would be your answer, I well
knew!” exclaimed Cora, her cheeks flushing,
and her dark eyes once more sparkling with the
lingering emotions of a woman. “What says
my Alice? for her will I submit without another
murmur.”
Although both Heyward and Cora listened
with painful suspense and the deepest atten-
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tion, no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as if the delicate and sensitive form of
Alice would shrink into itself, as she listened to
this proposal. Her arms had fallen lengthwise
before her, the fingers moving in slight convulsions; her head dropped upon her bosom, and
her whole person seemed suspended against
the tree, looking like some beautiful emblem
of the wounded delicacy of her sex, devoid of
animation and yet keenly conscious. In a few
moments, however, her head began to move
slowly, in a sign of deep, unconquerable disapprobation.
“No, no, no; better that we die as we have
lived, together!”
“Then die!” shouted Magua, hurling his
tomahawk with violence at the unresisting
speaker, and gnashing his teeth with a rage that
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could no longer be bridled at this sudden exhibition of firmness in the one he believed the
weakest of the party. The axe cleaved the air
in front of Heyward, and cutting some of the
flowing ringlets of Alice, quivered in the tree
above her head. The sight maddened Duncan
to desperation. Collecting all his energies in
one effort he snapped the twigs which bound
him and rushed upon another savage, who was
preparing, with loud yells and a more deliberate aim, to repeat the blow. They encountered,
grappled, and fell to the earth together. The
naked body of his antagonist afforded Heyward no means of holding his adversary, who
glided from his grasp, and rose again with one
knee on his chest, pressing him down with the
weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the
knife gleaming in the air, when a whistling
sound swept past him, and was rather accom-
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panied than followed by the sharp crack of a
rifle. He felt his breast relieved from the load it
had endured; he saw the savage expression of
his adversary’s countenance change to a look
of vacant wildness, when the Indian fell dead
on the faded leaves by his side.
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“Clo.–I am gone, sire,
And anon, sire,
I’ll be with you again.”
–Twelfth Night
THE HURONS STOOD aghast at this sudden visitation of death on one of their band.
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But as they regarded the fatal accuracy of an
aim which had dared to immolate an enemy at
so much hazard to a friend, the name of “La
Longue Carabine” burst simultaneously from
every lip, and was succeeded by a wild and a
sort of plaintive howl. The cry was answered
by a loud shout from a little thicket, where the
incautious party had piled their arms; and at
the next moment, Hawkeye, too eager to load
the rifle he had regained, was seen advancing
upon them, brandishing the clubbed weapon,
and cutting the air with wide and powerful
sweeps. Bold and rapid as was the progress
of the scout, it was exceeded by that of a
light and vigorous form which, bounding past
him, leaped, with incredible activity and daring, into the very center of the Hurons, where
it stood, whirling a tomahawk, and flourishing a glittering knife, with fearful menaces, in
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front of Cora. Quicker than the thoughts could
follow those unexpected and audacious movements, an image, armed in the emblematic
panoply of death, glided before their eyes, and
assumed a threatening attitude at the other’s
side. The savage tormentors recoiled before
these warlike intruders, and uttered, as they
appeared in such quick succession, the often repeated and peculiar exclamations of surprise,
followed by the well-known and dreaded appellations of:
“Le Cerf Agile! Le Gros Serpent!”
But the wary and vigilant leader of the
Hurons was not so easily disconcerted. Casting
his keen eyes around the little plain, he comprehended the nature of the assault at a glance,
and encouraging his followers by his voice as
well as by his example, he unsheathed his long
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and dangerous knife, and rushed with a loud
whoop upon the expected Chingachgook. It
was the signal for a general combat. Neither
party had firearms, and the contest was to be
decided in the deadliest manner, hand to hand,
with weapons of offense, and none of defense.
Uncas answered the whoop, and leaping on
an enemy, with a single, well-directed blow of
his tomahawk, cleft him to the brain. Heyward tore the weapon of Magua from the
sapling, and rushed eagerly toward the fray.
As the combatants were now equal in number, each singled an opponent from the adverse band. The rush and blows passed with
the fury of a whirlwind, and the swiftness of
lightning. Hawkeye soon got another enemy
within reach of his arm, and with one sweep
of his formidable weapon he beat down the
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slight and inartificial defenses of his antagonist, crushing him to the earth with the blow.
Heyward ventured to hurl the tomahawk he
had seized, too ardent to await the moment of
closing. It struck the Indian he had selected on
the forehead, and checked for an instant his onward rush. Encouraged by this slight advantage, the impetuous young man continued his
onset, and sprang upon his enemy with naked
hands. A single instant was enough to assure
him of the rashness of the measure, for he immediately found himself fully engaged, with
all his activity and courage, in endeavoring to
ward the desperate thrusts made with the knife
of the Huron. Unable longer to foil an enemy
so alert and vigilant, he threw his arms about
him, and succeeded in pinning the limbs of the
other to his side, with an iron grasp, but one
that was far too exhausting to himself to con-
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tinue long. In this extremity he heard a voice
near him, shouting:
“Extarminate the varlets! no quarter to an
accursed Mingo!”
At the next moment, the breech of Hawkeye’s rifle fell on the naked head of his adversary, whose muscles appeared to wither under
the shock, as he sank from the arms of Duncan,
flexible and motionless.
When Uncas had brained his first antagonist, he turned, like a hungry lion, to seek another. The fifth and only Huron disengaged at
the first onset had paused a moment, and then
seeing that all around him were employed in
the deadly strife, he had sought, with hellish
vengeance, to complete the baffled work of revenge. Raising a shout of triumph, he sprang
toward the defenseless Cora, sending his keen
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axe as the dreadful precursor of his approach.
The tomahawk grazed her shoulder, and cutting the withes which bound her to the tree,
left the maiden at liberty to fly. She eluded
the grasp of the savage, and reckless of her
own safety, threw herself on the bosom of Alice, striving with convulsed and ill-directed fingers, to tear asunder the twigs which confined
the person of her sister. Any other than a monster would have relented at such an act of generous devotion to the best and purest affection; but the breast of the Huron was a stranger
to sympathy. Seizing Cora by the rich tresses
which fell in confusion about her form, he tore
her from her frantic hold, and bowed her down
with brutal violence to her knees. The savage drew the flowing curls through his hand,
and raising them on high with an outstretched
arm, he passed the knife around the exquisitely
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molded head of his victim, with a taunting and
exulting laugh. But he purchased this moment
of fierce gratification with the loss of the fatal
opportunity. It was just then the sight caught
the eye of Uncas. Bounding from his footsteps
he appeared for an instant darting through the
air and descending in a ball he fell on the chest
of his enemy, driving him many yards from the
spot, headlong and prostrate. The violence of
the exertion cast the young Mohican at his side.
They arose together, fought, and bled, each in
his turn. But the conflict was soon decided; the
tomahawk of Heyward and the rifle of Hawkeye descended on the skull of the Huron, at the
same moment that the knife of Uncas reached
his heart.
The battle was now entirely terminated with
the exception of the protracted struggle be-
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tween “Le Renard Subtil” and “Le Gros Serpent.” Well did these barbarous warriors prove
that they deserved those significant names
which had been bestowed for deeds in former
wars. When they engaged, some little time was
lost in eluding the quick and vigorous thrusts
which had been aimed at their lives. Suddenly
darting on each other, they closed, and came
to the earth, twisted together like twining serpents, in pliant and subtle folds. At the moment when the victors found themselves unoccupied, the spot where these experienced and
desperate combatants lay could only be distinguished by a cloud of dust and leaves, which
moved from the center of the little plain toward
its boundary, as if raised by the passage of a
whirlwind. Urged by the different motives of
filial affection, friendship and gratitude, Heyward and his companions rushed with one ac-
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cord to the place, encircling the little canopy
of dust which hung above the warriors. In
vain did Uncas dart around the cloud, with a
wish to strike his knife into the heart of his
father’s foe; the threatening rifle of Hawkeye
was raised and suspended in vain, while Duncan endeavored to seize the limbs of the Huron
with hands that appeared to have lost their
power. Covered as they were with dust and
blood, the swift evolutions of the combatants
seemed to incorporate their bodies into one.
The death-like looking figure of the Mohican,
and the dark form of the Huron, gleamed before their eyes in such quick and confused succession, that the friends of the former knew not
where to plant the succoring blow. It is true
there were short and fleeting moments, when
the fiery eyes of Magua were seen glittering,
like the fabled organs of the basilisk through
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the dusty wreath by which he was enveloped,
and he read by those short and deadly glances
the fate of the combat in the presence of his enemies; ere, however, any hostile hand could descend on his devoted head, its place was filled
by the scowling visage of Chingachgook. In
this manner the scene of the combat was removed from the center of the little plain to its
verge. The Mohican now found an opportunity to make a powerful thrust with his knife;
Magua suddenly relinquished his grasp, and
fell backward without motion, and seemingly
without life. His adversary leaped on his feet,
making the arches of the forest ring with the
sounds of triumph.
“Well done for the Delawares! victory to the
Mohicans!” cried Hawkeye, once more elevating the butt of the long and fatal rifle; “a finish-
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ing blow from a man without a cross will never
tell against his honor, nor rob him of his right
to the scalp.”
But at the very moment when the dangerous
weapon was in the act of descending, the subtle
Huron rolled swiftly from beneath the danger,
over the edge of the precipice, and falling on
his feet, was seen leaping, with a single bound,
into the center of a thicket of low bushes, which
clung along its sides. The Delawares, who had
believed their enemy dead, uttered their exclamation of surprise, and were following with
speed and clamor, like hounds in open view of
the deer, when a shrill and peculiar cry from
the scout instantly changed their purpose, and
recalled them to the summit of the hill.
“‘Twas like himself!” cried the inveterate forester, whose prejudices contributed so
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largely to veil his natural sense of justice in all
matters which concerned the Mingoes; “a lying and deceitful varlet as he is. An honest
Delaware now, being fairly vanquished, would
have lain still, and been knocked on the head,
but these knavish Maquas cling to life like so
many cats-o’-the-mountain. Let him go–let him
go; ‘tis but one man, and he without rifle or
bow, many a long mile from his French commerades; and like a rattler that lost his fangs,
he can do no further mischief, until such time
as he, and we too, may leave the prints of our
moccasins over a long reach of sandy plain.
See, Uncas,” he added, in Delaware, “your father is flaying the scalps already. It may be well
to go round and feel the vagabonds that are
left, or we may have another of them loping
through the woods, and screeching like a jay
that has been winged.”
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So saying the honest but implacable scout
made the circuit of the dead, into whose senseless bosoms he thrust his long knife, with as
much coolness as though they had been so
many brute carcasses. He had, however, been
anticipated by the elder Mohican, who had already torn the emblems of victory from the unresisting heads of the slain.
But Uncas, denying his habits, we had almost said his nature, flew with instinctive delicacy, accompanied by Heyward, to the assistance of the females, and quickly releasing Alice, placed her in the arms of Cora. We shall
not attempt to describe the gratitude to the
Almighty Disposer of Events which glowed in
the bosoms of the sisters, who were thus unexpectedly restored to life and to each other.
Their thanksgivings were deep and silent; the
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offerings of their gentle spirits burning brightest and purest on the secret altars of their
hearts; and their renovated and more earthly
feelings exhibiting themselves in long and fervent though speechless caresses. As Alice rose
from her knees, where she had sunk by the side
of Cora, she threw herself on the bosom of the
latter, and sobbed aloud the name of their aged
father, while her soft, dove-like eyes, sparkled
with the rays of hope.
“We are saved! we are saved!” she murmured; “to return to the arms of our dear, dear
father, and his heart will not be broken with
grief. And you, too, Cora, my sister, my more
than sister, my mother; you, too, are spared.
And Duncan,” she added, looking round upon
the youth with a smile of ineffable innocence,
“even our own brave and noble Duncan has es-
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caped without a hurt.”
To these ardent and nearly innocent words
Cora made no other answer than by straining
the youthful speaker to her heart, as she bent
over her in melting tenderness. The manhood
of Heyward felt no shame in dropping tears
over this spectacle of affectionate rapture; and
Uncas stood, fresh and blood-stained from the
combat, a calm, and, apparently, an unmoved
looker-on, it is true, but with eyes that had already lost their fierceness, and were beaming
with a sympathy that elevated him far above
the intelligence, and advanced him probably
centuries before, the practises of his nation.
During this display of emotions so natural in
their situation, Hawkeye, whose vigilant distrust had satisfied itself that the Hurons, who
disfigured the heavenly scene, no longer pos-
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sessed the power to interrupt its harmony, approached David, and liberated him from the
bonds he had, until that moment, endured with
the most exemplary patience.
“There,” exclaimed the scout, casting the last
withe behind him, “you are once more master of your own limbs, though you seem not
to use them with much greater judgment than
that in which they were first fashioned. If advice from one who is not older than yourself,
but who, having lived most of his time in the
wilderness, may be said to have experience beyond his years, will give no offense, you are
welcome to my thoughts; and these are, to part
with the little tooting instrument in your jacket
to the first fool you meet with, and buy some
we’pon with the money, if it be only the barrel
of a horseman’s pistol. By industry and care,
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you might thus come to some prefarment; for
by this time, I should think, your eyes would
plainly tell you that a carrion crow is a better
bird than a mocking-thresher. The one will, at
least, remove foul sights from before the face of
man, while the other is only good to brew disturbances in the woods, by cheating the ears of
all that hear them.”
“Arms and the clarion for the battle, but
the song of thanksgiving to the victory!” answered the liberated David. “Friend,” he
added, thrusting forth his lean, delicate hand
toward Hawkeye, in kindness, while his eyes
twinkled and grew moist, “I thank thee that the
hairs of my head still grow where they were
first rooted by Providence; for, though those of
other men may be more glossy and curling, I
have ever found mine own well suited to the
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brain they shelter. That I did not join myself
to the battle, was less owing to disinclination,
than to the bonds of the heathen. Valiant and
skillful hast thou proved thyself in the conflict,
and I hereby thank thee, before proceeding to
discharge other and more important duties, because thou hast proved thyself well worthy of
a Christian’s praise.”
“The thing is but a trifle, and what you may
often see if you tarry long among us,” returned
the scout, a good deal softened toward the man
of song, by this unequivocal expression of gratitude. “I have got back my old companion,
‘killdeer’,” he added, striking his hand on the
breech of his rifle; “and that in itself is a victory.
These Iroquois are cunning, but they outwitted themselves when they placed their firearms
out of reach; and had Uncas or his father been
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gifted with only their common Indian patience,
we should have come in upon the knaves with
three bullets instead of one, and that would
have made a finish of the whole pack; yon loping varlet, as well as his commerades. But
‘twas all fore-ordered, and for the best.”
“Thou sayest well,” returned David, “and
hast caught the true spirit of Christianity. He
that is to be saved will be saved, and he that
is predestined to be damned will be damned.
This is the doctrine of truth, and most consoling and refreshing it is to the true believer.”
The scout, who by this time was seated, examining into the state of his rifle with a species
of parental assiduity, now looked up at the
other in a displeasure that he did not affect to
conceal, roughly interrupting further speech.
“Doctrine or no doctrine,” said the sturdy
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woodsman, “‘tis the belief of knaves, and the
curse of an honest man. I can credit that yonder Huron was to fall by my hand, for with my
own eyes I have seen it; but nothing short of being a witness will cause me to think he has met
with any reward, or that Chingachgook there
will be condemned at the final day.”
“You have no warranty for such an audacious doctrine, nor any covenant to support it,”
cried David who was deeply tinctured with the
subtle distinctions which, in his time, and more
especially in his province, had been drawn
around the beautiful simplicity of revelation,
by endeavoring to penetrate the awful mystery of the divine nature, supplying faith by
self-sufficiency, and by consequence, involving those who reasoned from such human dogmas in absurdities and doubt; “your temple
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is reared on the sands, and the first tempest
will wash away its foundation. I demand your
authorities for such an uncharitable assertion
(like other advocates of a system, David was
not always accurate in his use of terms). Name
chapter and verse; in which of the holy books
do you find language to support you?”
“Book!” repeated Hawkeye, with singular
and ill-concealed disdain; “do you take me for
a whimpering boy at the apronstring of one of
your old gals; and this good rifle on my knee
for the feather of a goose’s wing, my ox’s horn
for a bottle of ink, and my leathern pouch for a
cross-barred handkercher to carry my dinner?
Book! what have such as I, who am a warrior of
the wilderness, though a man without a cross,
to do with books? I never read but in one, and
the words that are written there are too simple
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and too plain to need much schooling; though I
may boast that of forty long and hard-working
years.”
“What call you the volume?” said David,
misconceiving the other’s meaning.
“‘Tis open before your eyes,” returned the
scout; “and he who owns it is not a niggard
of its use. I have heard it said that there are
men who read in books to convince themselves
there is a God. I know not but man may so
deform his works in the settlement, as to leave
that which is so clear in the wilderness a matter of doubt among traders and priests. If any
such there be, and he will follow me from sun
to sun, through the windings of the forest, he
shall see enough to teach him that he is a fool,
and that the greatest of his folly lies in striving
to rise to the level of One he can never equal,
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be it in goodness, or be it in power.”
The instant David discovered that he battled
with a disputant who imbibed his faith from
the lights of nature, eschewing all subtleties
of doctrine, he willingly abandoned a controversy from which he believed neither profit nor
credit was to be derived. While the scout was
speaking, he had also seated himself, and producing the ready little volume and the ironrimmed spectacles, he prepared to discharge a
duty, which nothing but the unexpected assault
he had received in his orthodoxy could have so
long suspended. He was, in truth, a minstrel
of the western continent–of a much later day,
certainly, than those gifted bards, who formerly
sang the profane renown of baron and prince,
but after the spirit of his own age and country;
and he was now prepared to exercise the cun-
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ning of his craft, in celebration of, or rather in
thanksgiving for, the recent victory. He waited
patiently for Hawkeye to cease, then lifting his
eyes, together with his voice, he said, aloud:
“I invite you, friends, to join in praise for
this signal deliverance from the hands of barbarians and infidels, to the comfortable and
solemn tones of the tune called ‘Northampton’.”
He next named the page and verse where the
rhymes selected were to be found, and applied
the pitch-pipe to his lips, with the decent gravity that he had been wont to use in the temple. This time he was, however, without any
accompaniment, for the sisters were just then
pouring out those tender effusions of affection
which have been already alluded to. Nothing deterred by the smallness of his audience,
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which, in truth, consisted only of the discontented scout, he raised his voice, commencing
and ending the sacred song without accident or
interruption of any kind.
Hawkeye listened while he coolly adjusted
his flint and reloaded his rifle; but the sounds,
wanting the extraneous assistance of scene and
sympathy, failed to awaken his slumbering
emotions. Never minstrel, or by whatever
more suitable name David should be known,
drew upon his talents in the presence of more
insensible auditors; though considering the
singleness and sincerity of his motive, it is
probable that no bard of profane song ever uttered notes that ascended so near to that throne
where all homage and praise is due. The scout
shook his head, and muttering some unintelligible words, among which “throat” and “Iro-
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quois” were alone audible, he walked away,
to collect and to examine into the state of the
captured arsenal of the Hurons. In this office he was now joined by Chingachgook, who
found his own, as well as the rifle of his son,
among the arms. Even Heyward and David
were furnished with weapons; nor was ammunition wanting to render them all effectual.
When the foresters had made their selection, and distributed their prizes, the scout announced that the hour had arrived when it was
necessary to move. By this time the song of
Gamut had ceased, and the sisters had learned
to still the exhibition of their emotions. Aided
by Duncan and the younger Mohican, the two
latter descended the precipitous sides of that
hill which they had so lately ascended under
so very different auspices, and whose summit
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had so nearly proved the scene of their massacre. At the foot they found the Narragansetts
browsing the herbage of the bushes, and having mounted, they followed the movements
of a guide, who, in the most deadly straits,
had so often proved himself their friend. The
journey was, however, short. Hawkeye, leaving the blind path that the Hurons had followed, turned short to his right, and entering
the thicket, he crossed a babbling brook, and
halted in a narrow dell, under the shade of a
few water elms. Their distance from the base of
the fatal hill was but a few rods, and the steeds
had been serviceable only in crossing the shallow stream.
The scout and the Indians appeared to be familiar with the sequestered place where they
now were; for, leaning their rifle against the
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trees, they commenced throwing aside the
dried leaves, and opening the blue clay, out of
which a clear and sparkling spring of bright,
glancing water, quickly bubbled. The white
man then looked about him, as though seeking
for some object, which was not to be found as
readily as he expected.
“Them careless imps, the Mohawks, with
their Tuscarora and Onondaga brethren, have
been here slaking their thirst,” he muttered,
“and the vagabonds have thrown away the
gourd! This is the way with benefits, when they
are bestowed on such disremembering hounds!
Here has the Lord laid his hand, in the midst
of the howling wilderness, for their good, and
raised a fountain of water from the bowels
of the ‘arth, that might laugh at the richest
shop of apothecary’s ware in all the colonies;
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and see! the knaves have trodden in the clay,
and deformed the cleanliness of the place, as
though they were brute beasts, instead of human men.”
Uncas silently extended toward him the desired gourd, which the spleen of Hawkeye had
hitherto prevented him from observing on a
branch of an elm. Filling it with water, he
retired a short distance, to a place where the
ground was more firm and dry; here he coolly
seated himself, and after taking a long, and,
apparently, a grateful draught, he commenced
a very strict examination of the fragments of
food left by the Hurons, which had hung in a
wallet on his arm.
“Thank you, lad!” he continued, returning
the empty gourd to Uncas; “now we will see
how these rampaging Hurons lived, when out-
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lying in ambushments. Look at this! The varlets know the better pieces of the deer; and one
would think they might carve and roast a saddle, equal to the best cook in the land! But everything is raw, for the Iroquois are thorough
savages. Uncas, take my steel and kindle a fire;
a mouthful of a tender broil will give natur’ a
helping hand, after so long a trail.”
Heyward, perceiving that their guides now
set about their repast in sober earnest, assisted
the ladies to alight, and placed himself at their
side, not unwilling to enjoy a few moments of
grateful rest, after the bloody scene he had just
gone through. While the culinary process was
in hand, curiosity induced him to inquire into
the circumstances which had led to their timely
and unexpected rescue:
“How is it that we see you so soon, my gen-
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erous friend,” he asked, “and without aid from
the garrison of Edward?”
“Had we gone to the bend in the river, we
might have been in time to rake the leaves over
your bodies, but too late to have saved your
scalps,” coolly answered the scout. “No, no;
instead of throwing away strength and opportunity by crossing to the fort, we lay by, under
the bank of the Hudson, waiting to watch the
movements of the Hurons.”
“You were, then, witnesses of all that
passed?”
“Not of all; for Indian sight is too keen to be
easily cheated, and we kept close. A difficult
matter it was, too, to keep this Mohican boy
snug in the ambushment. Ah! Uncas, Uncas,
your behavior was more like that of a curious
woman than of a warrior on his scent.”
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Uncas permitted his eyes to turn for an instant on the sturdy countenance of the speaker,
but he neither spoke nor gave any indication of
repentance. On the contrary, Heyward thought
the manner of the young Mohican was disdainful, if not a little fierce, and that he suppressed
passions that were ready to explode, as much
in compliment to the listeners, as from the deference he usually paid to his white associate.
“You saw our capture?” Heyward next demanded.
“We heard it,” was the significant answer.
“An Indian yell is plain language to men who
have passed their days in the woods. But when
you landed, we were driven to crawl like sarpents, beneath the leaves; and then we lost
sight of you entirely, until we placed eyes on
you again trussed to the trees, and ready bound
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for an Indian massacre.”
“Our rescue was the deed of Providence. It
was nearly a miracle that you did not mistake
the path, for the Hurons divided, and each
band had its horses.”
“Ay! there we were thrown off the scent,
and might, indeed, have lost the trail, had it
not been for Uncas; we took the path, however,
that led into the wilderness; for we judged, and
judged rightly, that the savages would hold
that course with their prisoners. But when we
had followed it for many miles, without finding a single twig broken, as I had advised, my
mind misgave me; especially as all the footsteps had the prints of moccasins.”
“Our captors had the precaution to see us
shod like themselves,” said Duncan, raising a
foot, and exhibiting the buckskin he wore.
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“Aye, ‘twas judgmatical and like themselves;
though we were too expart to be thrown from
a trail by so common an invention.”
“To what, then, are we indebted for our
safety?”
“To what, as a white man who has no taint of
Indian blood, I should be ashamed to own; to
the judgment of the young Mohican, in matters
which I should know better than he, but which
I can now hardly believe to be true, though my
own eyes tell me it is so.”
“‘Tis extraordinary! will you not name the
reason?”
“Uncas was bold enough to say, that the
beasts ridden by the gentle ones,” continued
Hawkeye, glancing his eyes, not without curious interest, on the fillies of the ladies, “planted
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the legs of one side on the ground at the same
time, which is contrary to the movements of
all trotting four-footed animals of my knowledge, except the bear. And yet here are horses
that always journey in this manner, as my own
eyes have seen, and as their trail has shown for
twenty long miles.”
“‘Tis the merit of the animal! They come
from the shores of Narrangansett Bay, in the
small province of Providence Plantations, and
are celebrated for their hardihood, and the ease
of this peculiar movement; though other horses
are not unfrequently trained to the same.”
“It may be–it may be,” said Hawkeye, who
had listened with singular attention to this explanation; “though I am a man who has the full
blood of the whites, my judgment in deer and
beaver is greater than in beasts of burden. Ma-
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jor Effingham has many noble chargers, but I
have never seen one travel after such a sidling
gait.”
“True; for he would value the animals for
very different properties. Still is this a breed
highly esteemed and, as you witness, much
honored with the burdens it is often destined
to bear.”
The Mohicans had suspended their operations about the glimmering fire to listen;
and, when Duncan had done, they looked
at each other significantly, the father uttering the never-failing exclamation of surprise.
The scout ruminated, like a man digesting
his newly-acquired knowledge, and once more
stole a glance at the horses.
“I dare to say there are even stranger sights
to be seen in the settlements!” he said, at
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length. “Natur’ is sadly abused by man, when
he once gets the mastery. But, go sidling or
go straight, Uncas had seen the movement,
and their trail led us on to the broken bush.
The outer branch, near the prints of one of
the horses, was bent upward, as a lady breaks
a flower from its stem, but all the rest were
ragged and broken down, as if the strong hand
of a man had been tearing them! So I concluded
that the cunning varments had seen the twig
bent, and had torn the rest, to make us believe
a buck had been feeling the boughs with his
antlers.”
“I do believe your sagacity did not deceive
you; for some such thing occurred!”
“That was easy to see,” added the scout, in
no degree conscious of having exhibited any
extraordinary sagacity; “and a very different
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matter it was from a waddling horse! It then
struck me the Mingoes would push for this
spring, for the knaves well know the vartue of
its waters!”
“Is it, then, so famous?” demanded Heyward, examining, with a more curious eye, the
secluded dell, with its bubbling fountain, surrounded, as it was, by earth of a deep, dingy
brown.
“Few red-skins, who travel south and east of
the great lakes but have heard of its qualities.
Will you taste for yourself?”
Heyward took the gourd, and after swallowing a little of the water, threw it aside with grimaces of discontent. The scout laughed in his
silent but heartfelt manner, and shook his head
with vast satisfaction.
“Ah! you want the flavor that one gets by
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habit; the time was when I liked it as little as
yourself; but I have come to my taste, and I
now crave it, as a deer does the licks14 . Your
high-spiced wines are not better liked than a
red-skin relishes this water; especially when
his natur’ is ailing. But Uncas has made his
fire, and it is time we think of eating, for our
journey is long, and all before us.”
Interrupting the dialogue by this abrupt
transition, the scout had instant recourse to the
fragments of food which had escaped the vo14 Many of the animals of the American forests resort
to those spots where salt springs are found. These are
called “licks” or “salt licks,” in the language of the country, from the circumstance that the quadruped is often
obliged to lick the earth, in order to obtain the saline
particles. These licks are great places of resort with the
hunters, who waylay their game near the paths that lead
to them.
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racity of the Hurons. A very summary process
completed the simple cookery, when he and the
Mohicans commenced their humble meal, with
the silence and characteristic diligence of men
who ate in order to enable themselves to endure great and unremitting toil.
When this necessary, and, happily, grateful duty had been performed, each of the
foresters stooped and took a long and parting draught at that solitary and silent spring15 ,
around which and its sister fountains, within
fifty years, the wealth, beauty and talents of
a hemisphere were to assemble in throngs, in
pursuit of health and pleasure. Then Hawkeye announced his determination to proceed.
15 The scene of the foregoing incidents is on the spot
where the village of Ballston now stands; one of the two
principal watering places of America.
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The sisters resumed their saddles; Duncan and
David grapsed their rifles, and followed on
footsteps; the scout leading the advance, and
the Mohicans bringing up the rear. The whole
party moved swiftly through the narrow path,
toward the north, leaving the healing waters to
mingle unheeded with the adjacent brooks and
the bodies of the dead to fester on the neighboring mount, without the rites of sepulture; a fate
but too common to the warriors of the woods
to excite either commiseration or comment.
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“I’ll seek a readier path.”
–Parnell
THE ROUTE TAKEN by Hawkeye lay across
those sandy plains, relived by occasional valleys and swells of land, which had been traversed by their party on the morning of the
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same day, with the baffled Magua for their
guide. The sun had now fallen low toward
the distant mountains; and as their journey lay
through the interminable forest, the heat was
no longer oppressive. Their progress, in consequence, was proportionate; and long before the
twilight gathered about them, they had made
good many toilsome miles on their return.
The hunter, like the savage whose place he
filled, seemed to select among the blind signs
of their wild route, with a species of instinct,
seldom abating his speed, and never pausing
to deliberate. A rapid and oblique glance at
the moss on the trees, with an occasional upward gaze toward the setting sun, or a steady
but passing look at the direction of the numerous water courses, through which he waded,
were sufficient to determine his path, and re-
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move his greatest difficulties. In the meantime,
the forest began to change its hues, losing that
lively green which had embellished its arches,
in the graver light which is the usual precursor
of the close of day.
While the eyes of the sisters were endeavoring to catch glimpses through the trees, of the
flood of golden glory which formed a glittering halo around the sun, tinging here and there
with ruby streaks, or bordering with narrow
edgings of shining yellow, a mass of clouds that
lay piled at no great distance above the western hills, Hawkeye turned suddenly and pointing upward toward the gorgeous heavens, he
spoke:
“Yonder is the signal given to man to seek
his food and natural rest,” he said; “better and
wiser would it be, if he could understand the
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signs of nature, and take a lesson from the
fowls of the air and the beasts of the field! Our
night, however, will soon be over, for with the
moon we must be up and moving again. I remember to have fou’t the Maquas, hereaways,
in the first war in which I ever drew blood from
man; and we threw up a work of blocks, to
keep the ravenous varmints from handling our
scalps. If my marks do not fail me, we shall
find the place a few rods further to our left.”
Without waiting for an assent, or, indeed,
for any reply, the sturdy hunter moved boldly
into a dense thicket of young chestnuts, shoving aside the branches of the exuberant shoots
which nearly covered the ground, like a man
who expected, at each step, to discover some
object he had formerly known. The recollection of the scout did not deceive him. Af-
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ter penetrating through the brush, matted as
it was with briars, for a few hundred feet,
he entered an open space, that surrounded a
low, green hillock, which was crowned by the
decayed blockhouse in question. This rude
and neglected building was one of those deserted works, which, having been thrown up
on an emergency, had been abandoned with
the disappearance of danger, and was now
quietly crumbling in the solitude of the forest, neglected and nearly forgotten, like the circumstances which had caused it to be reared.
Such memorials of the passage and struggles
of man are yet frequent throughout the broad
barrier of wilderness which once separated the
hostile provinces, and form a species of ruins
that are intimately associated with the recollections of colonial history, and which are in
appropriate keeping with the gloomy charac-
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ter of the surrounding scenery. The roof of
bark had long since fallen, and mingled with
the soil, but the huge logs of pine, which had
been hastily thrown together, still preserved
their relative positions, though one angle of the
work had given way under the pressure, and
threatened a speedy downfall to the remainder of the rustic edifice. While Heyward and
his companions hesitated to approach a building so decayed, Hawkeye and the Indians entered within the low walls, not only without
fear, but with obvious interest. While the former surveyed the ruins, both internally and externally, with the curiosity of one whose recollections were reviving at each moment, Chingachgook related to his son, in the language
of the Delawares, and with the pride of a conqueror, the brief history of the skirmish which
had been fought, in his youth, in that secluded
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spot. A strain of melancholy, however, blended
with his triumph, rendering his voice, as usual,
soft and musical.
In the meantime, the sisters gladly dismounted, and prepared to enjoy their halt in
the coolness of the evening, and in a security
which they believed nothing but the beasts of
the forest could invade.
“Would not our resting-place have been
more retired, my worthy friend,” demanded
the more vigilant Duncan, perceiving that the
scout had already finished his short survey,
“had we chosen a spot less known, and one
more rarely visited than this?”
“Few live who know the blockhouse was
ever raised,” was the slow and musing answer;
“‘tis not often that books are made, and narratives written of such a scrimmage as was here
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fou’t atween the Mohicans and the Mohawks,
in a war of their own waging. I was then a
younker, and went out with the Delawares, because I know’d they were a scandalized and
wronged race. Forty days and forty nights did
the imps crave our blood around this pile of
logs, which I designed and partly reared, being, as you’ll remember, no Indian myself, but a
man without a cross. The Delawares lent themselves to the work, and we made it good, ten to
twenty, until our numbers were nearly equal,
and then we sallied out upon the hounds, and
not a man of them ever got back to tell the fate
of his party. Yes, yes; I was then young, and
new to the sight of blood; and not relishing the
thought that creatures who had spirits like myself should lay on the naked ground, to be torn
asunder by beasts, or to bleach in the rains, I
buried the dead with my own hands, under
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that very little hillock where you have placed
yourselves; and no bad seat does it make neither, though it be raised by the bones of mortal
men.”
Heyward and the sisters arose, on the instant, from the grassy sepulcher; nor could the
two latter, notwithstanding the terrific scenes
they had so recently passed through, entirely
suppress an emotion of natural horror, when
they found themselves in such familiar contact
with the grave of the dead Mohawks. The gray
light, the gloomy little area of dark grass, surrounded by its border of brush, beyond which
the pines rose, in breathing silence, apparently
into the very clouds, and the deathlike stillness
of the vast forest, were all in unison to deepen
such a sensation. “They are gone, and they
are harmless,” continued Hawkeye, waving his
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hand, with a melancholy smile at their manifest
alarm; “they’ll never shout the war-whoop nor
strike a blow with the tomahawk again! And
of all those who aided in placing them where
they lie, Chingachgook and I only are living!
The brothers and family of the Mohican formed
our war party; and you see before you all that
are now left of his race.”
The eyes of the listeners involuntarily sought
the forms of the Indians, with a compassionate
interest in their desolate fortune. Their dark
persons were still to be seen within the shadows of the blockhouse, the son listening to the
relation of his father with that sort of intenseness which would be created by a narrative
that redounded so much to the honor of those
whose names he had long revered for their
courage and savage virtues.
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“I had thought the Delawares a pacific people,” said Duncan, “and that they never waged
war in person; trusting the defense of their
hands to those very Mohawks that you slew!”
“‘Tis true in part,” returned the scout, “and
yet, at the bottom, ‘tis a wicked lie. Such a
treaty was made in ages gone by, through the
deviltries of the Dutchers, who wished to disarm the natives that had the best right to the
country, where they had settled themselves.
The Mohicans, though a part of the same nation, having to deal with the English, never entered into the silly bargain, but kept to their
manhood; as in truth did the Delawares, when
their eyes were open to their folly. You see
before you a chief of the great Mohican Sagamores! Once his family could chase their
deer over tracts of country wider than that
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which belongs to the Albany Patteroon, without crossing brook or hill that was not their
own; but what is left of their descendant?
He may find his six feet of earth when God
chooses, and keep it in peace, perhaps, if he has
a friend who will take the pains to sink his head
so low that the plowshares cannot reach it!”
“Enough!” said Heyward, apprehensive that
the subject might lead to a discussion that
would interrupt the harmony so necessary to
the preservation of his fair companions; “we
have journeyed far, and few among us are
blessed with forms like that of yours, which
seems to know neither fatigue nor weakness.”
“The sinews and bones of a man carry me
through it all,” said the hunter, surveying his
muscular limbs with a simplicity that betrayed
the honest pleasure the compliment afforded
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him; “there are larger and heavier men to be
found in the settlements, but you might travel
many days in a city before you could meet one
able to walk fifty miles without stopping to
take breath, or who has kept the hounds within
hearing during a chase of hours. However,
as flesh and blood are not always the same, it
is quite reasonable to suppose that the gentle
ones are willing to rest, after all they have seen
and done this day. Uncas, clear out the spring,
while your father and I make a cover for their
tender heads of these chestnut shoots, and a
bed of grass and leaves.”
The dialogue ceased, while the hunter and
his companions busied themselves in preparations for the comfort and protection of those
they guided. A spring, which many long
years before had induced the natives to select
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the place for their temporary fortification, was
soon cleared of leaves, and a fountain of crystal
gushed from the bed, diffusing its waters over
the verdant hillock. A corner of the building
was then roofed in such a manner as to exclude
the heavy dew of the climate, and piles of sweet
shrubs and dried leaves were laid beneath it for
the sisters to repose on.
While the diligent woodsmen were employed in this manner, Cora and Alice partook of that refreshment which duty required
much more than inclination prompted them
to accept. They then retired within the walls,
and first offering up their thanksgivings for
past mercies, and petitioning for a continuance of the Divine favor throughout the coming night, they laid their tender forms on the
fragrant couch, and in spite of recollections
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and forebodings, soon sank into those slumbers which nature so imperiously demanded,
and which were sweetened by hopes for the
morrow. Duncan had prepared himself to pass
the night in watchfulness near them, just without the ruin, but the scout, perceiving his intention, pointed toward Chingachgook, as he
coolly disposed his own person on the grass,
and said:
“The eyes of a white man are too heavy and
too blind for such a watch as this! The Mohican
will be our sentinel, therefore let us sleep.”
“I proved myself a sluggard on my post during the past night,” said Heyward, “and have
less need of repose than you, who did more
credit to the character of a soldier. Let all the
party seek their rest, then, while I hold the
guard.”
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“If we lay among the white tents of the Sixtieth, and in front of an enemy like the French, I
could not ask for a better watchman,” returned
the scout; “but in the darkness and among the
signs of the wilderness your judgment would
be like the folly of a child, and your vigilance
thrown away. Do then, like Uncas and myself,
sleep, and sleep in safety.”
Heyward perceived, in truth, that the
younger Indian had thrown his form on the
side of the hillock while they were talking, like
one who sought to make the most of the time
allotted to rest, and that his example had been
followed by David, whose voice literally “clove
to his jaws,” with the fever of his wound,
heightened, as it was, by their toilsome march.
Unwilling to prolong a useless discussion, the
young man affected to comply, by posting his
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back against the logs of the blockhouse, in a
half recumbent posture, though resolutely determined, in his own mind, not to close an eye
until he had delivered his precious charge into
the arms of Munro himself. Hawkeye, believing he had prevailed, soon fell asleep, and a silence as deep as the solitude in which they had
found it, pervaded the retired spot.
For many minutes Duncan succeeded in
keeping his senses on the alert, and alive to every moaning sound that arose from the forest.
His vision became more acute as the shades
of evening settled on the place; and even after the stars were glimmering above his head,
he was able to distinguish the recumbent forms
of his companions, as they lay stretched on the
grass, and to note the person of Chingachgook,
who sat upright and motionless as one of the
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trees which formed the dark barrier on every
side. He still heard the gentle breathings of
the sisters, who lay within a few feet of him,
and not a leaf was ruffled by the passing air
of which his ear did not detect the whispering
sound. At length, however, the mournful notes
of a whip-poor-will became blended with the
moanings of an owl; his heavy eyes occasionally sought the bright rays of the stars, and he
then fancied he saw them through the fallen
lids. At instants of momentary wakefulness he
mistook a bush for his associate sentinel; his
head next sank upon his shoulder, which, in its
turn, sought the support of the ground; and,
finally, his whole person became relaxed and
pliant, and the young man sank into a deep
sleep, dreaming that he was a knight of ancient
chivalry, holding his midnight vigils before the
tent of a recaptured princess, whose favor he
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did not despair of gaining, by such a proof of
devotion and watchfulness.
How long the tired Duncan lay in this insensible state he never knew himself, but his slumbering visions had been long lost in total forgetfulness, when he was awakened by a light tap
on the shoulder. Aroused by this signal, slight
as it was, he sprang upon his feet with a confused recollection of the self-imposed duty he
had assumed with the commencement of the
night.
“Who comes?” he demanded, feeling for his
sword, at the place where it was usually suspended. “Speak! friend or enemy?”
“Friend,” replied the low voice of Chingachgook; who, pointing upward at the luminary which was shedding its mild light
through the opening in the trees, directly in
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their bivouac, immediately added, in his rude
English: “Moon comes and white man’s fort
far–far off; time to move, when sleep shuts both
eyes of the Frenchman!”
“You say true! Call up your friends, and bridle the horses while I prepare my own companions for the march!”
“We are awake, Duncan,” said the soft, silvery tones of Alice within the building, “and
ready to travel very fast after so refreshing a
sleep; but you have watched through the tedious night in our behalf, after having endured
so much fatigue the livelong day!”
“Say, rather, I would have watched, but my
treacherous eyes betrayed me; twice have I
proved myself unfit for the trust I bear.”
“Nay, Duncan, deny it not,” interrupted the
smiling Alice, issuing from the shadows of the
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building into the light of the moon, in all the
loveliness of her freshened beauty; “I know
you to be a heedless one, when self is the object of your care, and but too vigilant in favor
of others. Can we not tarry here a little longer
while you find the rest you need? Cheerfully,
most cheerfully, will Cora and I keep the vigils,
while you and all these brave men endeavor to
snatch a little sleep!”
“If shame could cure me of my drowsiness,
I should never close an eye again,” said the
uneasy youth, gazing at the ingenuous countenance of Alice, where, however, in its sweet
solicitude, he read nothing to confirm his halfawakened suspicion. “It is but too true, that
after leading you into danger by my heedlessness, I have not even the merit of guarding
your pillows as should become a soldier.”
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“No one but Duncan himself should accuse
Duncan of such a weakness. Go, then, and
sleep; believe me, neither of us, weak girls as
we are, will betray our watch.”
The young man was relieved from the awkwardness of making any further protestations
of his own demerits, by an exclamation from
Chingachgook, and the attitude of riveted attention assumed by his son.
“The Mohicans hear an enemy!” whispered
Hawkeye, who, by this time, in common with
the whole party, was awake and stirring. “They
scent danger in the wind!”
“God forbid!” exclaimed Heyward. “Surely
we have had enough of bloodshed!”
While he spoke, however, the young soldier seized his rifle, and advancing toward the
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front, prepared to atone for his venial remissness, by freely exposing his life in defense of
those he attended.
“‘Tis some creature of the forest prowling
around us in quest of food,” he said, in a whisper, as soon as the low, and apparently distant sounds, which had startled the Mohicans,
reached his own ears.
“Hist!” returned the attentive scout; “‘tis
man; even I can now tell his tread, poor as
my senses are when compared to an Indian’s!
That Scampering Huron has fallen in with one
of Montcalm’s outlying parties, and they have
struck upon our trail. I shouldn’t like, myself, to spill more human blood in this spot,”
he added, looking around with anxiety in his
features, at the dim objects by which he was
surrounded; “but what must be, must! Lead
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the horses into the blockhouse, Uncas; and,
friends, do you follow to the same shelter. Poor
and old as it is, it offers a cover, and has rung
with the crack of a rifle afore to-night!”
He was instantly obeyed, the Mohicans
leading the Narrangansetts within the ruin,
whither the whole party repaired with the most
guarded silence.
The sound of approaching footsteps were
now too distinctly audible to leave any doubts
as to the nature of the interruption. They were
soon mingled with voices calling to each other
in an Indian dialect, which the hunter, in a
whisper, affirmed to Heyward was the language of the Hurons. When the party reached
the point where the horses had entered the
thicket which surrounded the blockhouse, they
were evidently at fault, having lost those marks
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which, until that moment, had directed their
pursuit.
It would seem by the voices that twenty men
were soon collected at that one spot, mingling
their different opinions and advice in noisy
clamor.
“The knaves know our weakness,” whispered Hawkeye, who stood by the side of Heyward, in deep shade, looking through an opening in the logs, “or they wouldn’t indulge their
idleness in such a squaw’s march. Listen to the
reptiles! each man among them seems to have
two tongues, and but a single leg.”
Duncan, brave as he was in the combat,
could not, in such a moment of painful suspense, make any reply to the cool and characteristic remark of the scout. He only grasped
his rifle more firmly, and fastened his eyes
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upon the narrow opening, through which he
gazed upon the moonlight view with increasing anxiety. The deeper tones of one who spoke
as having authority were next heard, amid a silence that denoted the respect with which his
orders, or rather advice, was received. After
which, by the rustling of leaves, and crackling of dried twigs, it was apparent the savages were separating in pursuit of the lost trail.
Fortunately for the pursued, the light of the
moon, while it shed a flood of mild luster upon
the little area around the ruin, was not sufficiently strong to penetrate the deep arches of
the forest, where the objects still lay in deceptive shadow. The search proved fruitless; for so
short and sudden had been the passage from
the faint path the travelers had journeyed into
the thicket, that every trace of their footsteps
was lost in the obscurity of the woods.
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It was not long, however, before the restless savages were heard beating the brush, and
gradually approaching the inner edge of that
dense border of young chestnuts which encircled the little area.
“They are coming,” muttered Heyward, endeavoring to thrust his rifle through the chink
in the logs; “let us fire on their approach.”
“Keep everything in the shade,” returned
the scout; “the snapping of a flint, or even the
smell of a single karnel of the brimstone, would
bring the hungry varlets upon us in a body.
Should it please God that we must give battle
for the scalps, trust to the experience of men
who know the ways of the savages, and who
are not often backward when the war-whoop
is howled.”
Duncan cast his eyes behind him, and saw
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that the trembling sisters were cowering in the
far corner of the building, while the Mohicans
stood in the shadow, like two upright posts,
ready, and apparently willing, to strike when
the blow should be needed. Curbing his impatience, he again looked out upon the area,
and awaited the result in silence. At that instant the thicket opened, and a tall and armed
Huron advanced a few paces into the open
space. As he gazed upon the silent blockhouse,
the moon fell upon his swarthy countenance,
and betrayed its surprise and curiosity. He
made the exclamation which usually accompanies the former emotion in an Indian, and, calling in a low voice, soon drew a companion to
his side.
These children of the woods stood together
for several moments pointing at the crumbling
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edifice, and conversing in the unintelligible
language of their tribe. They then approached,
though with slow and cautious steps, pausing every instant to look at the building, like
startled deer whose curiosity struggled powerfully with their awakened apprehensions for
the mastery. The foot of one of them suddenly
rested on the mound, and he stopped to examine its nature. At this moment, Heyward
observed that the scout loosened his knife in
its sheath, and lowered the muzzle of his rifle. Imitating these movements, the young man
prepared himself for the struggle which now
seemed inevitable.
The savages were so near, that the least motion in one of the horses, or even a breath
louder than common, would have betrayed
the fugitives. But in discovering the charac-
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ter of the mound, the attention of the Hurons
appeared directed to a different object. They
spoke together, and the sounds of their voices
were low and solemn, as if influenced by a
reverence that was deeply blended with awe.
Then they drew warily back, keeping their eyes
riveted on the ruin, as if they expected to see
the apparitions of the dead issue from its silent
walls, until, having reached the boundary of
the area, they moved slowly into the thicket
and disappeared.
Hawkeye dropped the breech of his rifle to
the earth, and drawing a long, free breath, exclaimed, in an audible whisper:
“Ay! they respect the dead, and it has this
time saved their own lives, and, it may be, the
lives of better men too.”
Heyward lent his attention for a single mo-
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ment to his companion, but without replying,
he again turned toward those who just then interested him more. He heard the two Hurons
leave the bushes, and it was soon plain that
all the pursuers were gathered about them, in
deep attention to their report. After a few
minutes of earnest and solemn dialogue, altogether different from the noisy clamor with
which they had first collected about the spot,
the sounds grew fainter and more distant, and
finally were lost in the depths of the forest.
Hawkeye waited until a signal from the listening Chingachgook assured him that every
sound from the retiring party was completely
swallowed by the distance, when he motioned
to Heyward to lead forth the horses, and to assist the sisters into their saddles. The instant
this was done they issued through the broken
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gateway, and stealing out by a direction opposite to the one by which they entered, they quitted the spot, the sisters casting furtive glances
at the silent, grave and crumbling ruin, as they
left the soft light of the moon, to bury themselves in the gloom of the woods.
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“Guard.–Qui est la? Puc.
–Paisans, pauvres gens de France.”
–King Henry VI
DURING THE RAPID movement from the
blockhouse, and until the party was deeply
buried in the forest, each individual was too
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much interested in the escape to hazard a word
even in whispers. The scout resumed his post
in advance, though his steps, after he had
thrown a safe distance between himself and
his enemies, were more deliberate than in their
previous march, in consequence of his utter
ignorance of the localities of the surrounding
woods. More than once he halted to consult
with his confederates, the Mohicans, pointing
upward at the moon, and examining the barks
of the trees with care. In these brief pauses,
Heyward and the sisters listened, with senses
rendered doubly acute by the danger, to detect any symptoms which might announce the
proximity of their foes. At such moments,
it seemed as if a vast range of country lay
buried in eternal sleep; not the least sound arising from the forest, unless it was the distant
and scarcely audible rippling of a water-course.
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Birds, beasts, and man, appeared to slumber
alike, if, indeed, any of the latter were to be
found in that wide tract of wilderness. But the
sounds of the rivulet, feeble and murmuring as
they were, relieved the guides at once from no
trifling embarrassment, and toward it they immediately held their way.
When the banks of the little stream were
gained, Hawkeye made another halt; and taking the moccasins from his feet, he invited Heyward and Gamut to follow his example. He
then entered the water, and for near an hour
they traveled in the bed of the brook, leaving
no trail. The moon had already sunk into an
immense pile of black clouds, which lay impending above the western horizon, when they
issued from the low and devious water-course
to rise again to the light and level of the sandy
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but wooded plain. Here the scout seemed to
be once more at home, for he held on this way
with the certainty and diligence of a man who
moved in the security of his own knowledge.
The path soon became more uneven, and the
travelers could plainly perceive that the mountains drew nigher to them on each hand, and
that they were, in truth, about entering one
of their gorges. Suddenly, Hawkeye made a
pause, and, waiting until he was joined by the
whole party, he spoke, though in tones so low
and cautious, that they added to the solemnity
of his words, in the quiet and darkness of the
place.
“It is easy to know the pathways, and to find
the licks and water-courses of the wilderness,”
he said; “but who that saw this spot could venture to say, that a mighty army was at rest
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among yonder silent trees and barren mountains?”
“We are, then, at no great distance from
William Henry?” said Heyward, advancing
nigher to the scout.
“It is yet a long and weary path, and when
and where to strike it is now our greatest difficulty. See,” he said, pointing through the trees
toward a spot where a little basin of water reflected the stars from its placid bosom, “here is
the ‘bloody pond’; and I am on ground that I
have not only often traveled, but over which I
have fou’t the enemy, from the rising to the setting sun.”
“Ha! that sheet of dull and dreary water,
then, is the sepulcher of the brave men who fell
in the contest. I have heard it named, but never
have I stood on its banks before.”
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“Three battles did we make with the DutchFrenchman16 in a day,” continued Hawkeye,
pursuing the train of his own thoughts, rather
than replying to the remark of Duncan. “He
met us hard by, in our outward march to
ambush his advance, and scattered us, like
driven deer, through the defile, to the shores
of Horican. Then we rallied behind our fallen
trees, and made head against him, under Sir
William–who was made Sir William for that
very deed; and well did we pay him for the
disgrace of the morning! Hundreds of Frenchmen saw the sun that day for the last time; and
even their leader, Dieskau himself, fell into our
hands, so cut and torn with the lead, that he has
16 Baron Dieskau, a German, in the service of France.
A few years previously to the period of the tale, this officer was defeated by Sir William Johnson, of Johnstown,
New York, on the shores of Lake George.
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gone back to his own country, unfit for further
acts in war.”
“‘Twas a noble repulse!” exclaimed Heyward, in the heat of his youthful ardor; “the
fame of it reached us early, in our southern
army.”
“Ay! but it did not end there. I was sent by
Major Effingham, at Sir William’s own bidding,
to outflank the French, and carry the tidings of
their disaster across the portage, to the fort on
the Hudson. Just hereaway, where you see the
trees rise into a mountain swell, I met a party
coming down to our aid, and I led them where
the enemy were taking their meal, little dreaming that they had not finished the bloody work
of the day.”
“And you surprised them?”
“If death can be a surprise to men who are
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thinking only of the cravings of their appetites.
We gave them but little breathing time, for they
had borne hard upon us in the fight of the
morning, and there were few in our party who
had not lost friend or relative by their hands.”
“When all was over, the dead, and some say
the dying, were cast into that little pond. These
eyes have seen its waters colored with blood, as
natural water never yet flowed from the bowels
of the ‘arth.”
“It was a convenient, and, I trust, will prove
a peaceful grave for a soldier. You have then
seen much service on this frontier?”
“Ay!” said the scout, erecting his tall person with an air of military pride; “there are
not many echoes among these hills that haven’t
rung with the crack of my rifle, nor is there
the space of a square mile atwixt Horican and
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the river, that ‘killdeer’ hasn’t dropped a living body on, be it an enemy or be it a brute
beast. As for the grave there being as quiet
as you mention, it is another matter. There are
them in the camp who say and think, man, to
lie still, should not be buried while the breath is
in the body; and certain it is that in the hurry of
that evening, the doctors had but little time to
say who was living and who was dead. Hist!
see you nothing walking on the shore of the
pond?”
“‘Tis not probable that any are as houseless
as ourselves in this dreary forest.”
“Such as he may care but little for house or
shelter, and night dew can never wet a body
that passes its days in the water,” returned the
scout, grasping the shoulder of Heyward with
such convulsive strength as to make the young
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soldier painfully sensible how much superstitious terror had got the mastery of a man usually so dauntless.
“By heaven, there is a human form, and it
approaches! Stand to your arms, my friends;
for we know not whom we encounter.”
“Qui vive?” demanded a stern, quick voice,
which sounded like a challenge from another
world, issuing out of that solitary and solemn
place.
“What says it?” whispered the scout; “it
speaks neither Indian nor English.”
“Qui vive?” repeated the same voice, which
was quickly followed by the rattling of arms,
and a menacing attitude.
“France!” cried Heyward, advancing from
the shadow of the trees to the shore of the pond,
within a few yards of the sentinel.
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“D’ou venez-vous–ou allez-vous, d’aussi
bonne heure?” demanded the grenadier, in the
language and with the accent of a man from old
France.
“Je viens de la decouverte, et je vais me
coucher.”
“Etes-vous officier du roi?”
“Sans doute, mon camarade; me prends-tu
pour un provincial! Je suis capitaine de chasseurs (Heyward well knew that the other was
of a regiment in the line); j’ai ici, avec moi, les
filles du commandant de la fortification. Aha!
tu en as entendu parler! je les ai fait prisonnieres pres de l’autre fort, et je les conduis au
general.”
“Ma foi! mesdames; j’en suis fâche pour
vous,” exclaimed the young soldier, touching
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his cap with grace; “mais–fortune de guerre!
vous trouverez notre general un brave homme,
et bien poli avec les dames.”
“C’est le caractere des gens de guerre,” said
Cora, with admirable self-possession. “Adieu,
mon ami; je vous souhaiterais un devoir plus
agreable a remplir.”
The soldier made a low and humble acknowledgment for her civility; and Heyward
adding a “Bonne nuit, mon camarade,” they
moved deliberately forward, leaving the sentinel pacing the banks of the silent pond, little suspecting an enemy of so much effrontery, and humming to himself those words
which were recalled to his mind by the sight
of women, and, perhaps, by recollections of his
own distant and beautiful France: “Vive le vin,
vive l’amour,” etc., etc.
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“‘Tis well you understood the knave!” whispered the scout, when they had gained a little
distance from the place, and letting his rifle fall
into the hollow of his arm again; “I soon saw
that he was one of them uneasy Frenchers; and
well for him it was that his speech was friendly
and his wishes kind, or a place might have been
found for his bones among those of his countrymen.”
He was interrupted by a long and heavy
groan which arose from the little basin, as
though, in truth, the spirits of the departed lingered about their watery sepulcher.
“Surely it was of flesh,” continued the scout;
“no spirit could handle its arms so steadily.”
“It was of flesh; but whether the poor fellow still belongs to this world may well be
doubted,” said Heyward, glancing his eyes
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around him, and missing Chingachgook from
their little band. Another groan more faint
than the former was succeeded by a heavy and
sullen plunge into the water, and all was still
again as if the borders of the dreary pool had
never been awakened from the silence of creation. While they yet hesitated in uncertainty,
the form of the Indian was seen gliding out of
the thicket. As the chief rejoined them, with
one hand he attached the reeking scalp of the
unfortunate young Frenchman to his girdle,
and with the other he replaced the knife and
tomahawk that had drunk his blood. He then
took his wonted station, with the air of a man
who believed he had done a deed of merit.
The scout dropped one end of his rifle to the
earth, and leaning his hands on the other, he
stood musing in profound silence. Then, shak-
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ing his head in a mournful manner, he muttered:
“‘Twould have been a cruel and an unhuman
act for a white-skin; but ‘tis the gift and natur’
of an Indian, and I suppose it should not be
denied. I could wish, though, it had befallen
an accursed Mingo, rather than that gay young
boy from the old countries.”
“Enough!” said Heyward, apprehensive the
unconscious sisters might comprehend the nature of the detention, and conquering his disgust by a train of reflections very much like
that of the hunter; “‘tis done; and though better
it were left undone, cannot be amended. You
see, we are, too obviously within the sentinels
of the enemy; what course do you propose to
follow?”
“Yes,” said Hawkeye, rousing himself again;
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“‘tis as you say, too late to harbor further
thoughts about it. Ay, the French have gathered
around the fort in good earnest and we have a
delicate needle to thread in passing them.”
“And but little time to do it in,” added Heyward, glancing his eyes upwards, toward the
bank of vapor that concealed the setting moon.
“And little time to do it in!” repeated the
scout. “The thing may be done in two fashions, by the help of Providence, without which
it may not be done at all.”
“Name them quickly for time presses.”
“One would be to dismount the gentle ones,
and let their beasts range the plain, by sending
the Mohicans in front, we might then cut a lane
through their sentries, and enter the fort over
the dead bodies.”
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“It will not do–it will not do!” interrupted
the generous Heyward; “a soldier might force
his way in this manner, but never with such a
convoy.”
“‘Twould be, indeed, a bloody path for such
tender feet to wade in,” returned the equally
reluctant scout; “but I thought it befitting my
manhood to name it. We must, then, turn in
our trail and get without the line of their lookouts, when we will bend short to the west, and
enter the mountains; where I can hide you, so
that all the devil’s hounds in Montcalm’s pay
would be thrown off the scent for months to
come.”
“Let it be done, and that instantly.”
Further words were unnecessary; for Hawkeye, merely uttering the mandate to “follow,”
moved along the route by which they had just
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entered their present critical and even dangerous situation. Their progress, like their late dialogue, was guarded, and without noise; for
none knew at what moment a passing patrol,
or a crouching picket of the enemy, might rise
upon their path. As they held their silent way
along the margin of the pond, again Heyward
and the scout stole furtive glances at its appalling dreariness. They looked in vain for the
form they had so recently seen stalking along
in silent shores, while a low and regular wash
of the little waves, by announcing that the waters were not yet subsided, furnished a frightful memorial of the deed of blood they had just
witnessed. Like all that passing and gloomy
scene, the low basin, however, quickly melted
in the darkness, and became blended with the
mass of black objects in the rear of the travelers.
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Hawkeye soon deviated from the line of
their retreat, and striking off towards the
mountains which form the western boundary of the narrow plain, he led his followers, with swift steps, deep within the shadows that were cast from their high and broken summits. The route was now painful; lying over ground ragged with rocks, and intersected with ravines, and their progress proportionately slow. Bleak and black hills lay on every side of them, compensating in some degree
for the additional toil of the march by the sense
of security they imparted. At length the party
began slowly to rise a steep and rugged ascent,
by a path that curiously wound among rocks
and trees, avoiding the one and supported by
the other, in a manner that showed it had been
devised by men long practised in the arts of the
wilderness. As they gradually rose from the
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level of the valleys, the thick darkness which
usually precedes the approach of day began
to disperse, and objects were seen in the plain
and palpable colors with which they had been
gifted by nature. When they issued from the
stunted woods which clung to the barren sides
of the mountain, upon a flat and mossy rock
that formed its summit, they met the morning,
as it came blushing above the green pines of a
hill that lay on the opposite side of the valley of
the Horican.
The scout now told the sisters to dismount;
and taking the bridles from the mouths, and
the saddles off the backs of the jaded beasts,
he turned them loose, to glean a scanty subsistence among the shrubs and meager herbage of
that elevated region.
“Go,” he said, “and seek your food where
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natur’ gives it to you; and beware that you become not food to ravenous wolves yourselves,
among these hills.”
“Have we no further need of them?” demanded Heyward.
“See, and judge with your own eyes,” said
the scout, advancing toward the eastern brow
of the mountain, whither he beckoned for the
whole party to follow; “if it was as easy to look
into the heart of man as it is to spy out the
nakedness of Montcalm’s camp from this spot,
hypocrites would grow scarce, and the cunning
of a Mingo might prove a losing game, compared to the honesty of a Delaware.”
When the travelers reached the verge of the
precipices they saw, at a glance, the truth of
the scout’s declaration, and the admirable foresight with which he had led them to their com-
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manding station.
The mountain on which they stood, elevated perhaps a thousand feet in the air, was
a high cone that rose a little in advance of that
range which stretches for miles along the western shores of the lake, until meeting its sisters miles beyond the water, it ran off toward
the Canadas, in confused and broken masses
of rock, thinly sprinkled with evergreens. Immediately at the feet of the party, the southern shore of the Horican swept in a broad
semicircle from mountain to mountain, marking a wide strand, that soon rose into an uneven and somewhat elevated plain. To the
north stretched the limpid, and, as it appeared
from that dizzy height, the narrow sheet of the
“holy lake,” indented with numberless bays,
embellished by fantastic headlands, and dot-
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ted with countless islands. At the distance of
a few leagues, the bed of the water became
lost among mountains, or was wrapped in the
masses of vapor that came slowly rolling along
their bosom, before a light morning air. But a
narrow opening between the crests of the hills
pointed out the passage by which they found
their way still further north, to spread their
pure and ample sheets again, before pouring
out their tribute into the distant Champlain. To
the south stretched the defile, or rather broken
plain, so often mentioned. For several miles in
this direction, the mountains appeared reluctant to yield their dominion, but within reach
of the eye they diverged, and finally melted
into the level and sandy lands, across which
we have accompanied our adventurers in their
double journey. Along both ranges of hills,
which bounded the opposite sides of the lake
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and valley, clouds of light vapor were rising
in spiral wreaths from the uninhabited woods,
looking like the smoke of hidden cottages; or
rolled lazily down the declivities, to mingle
with the fogs of the lower land. A single, solitary, snow-white cloud floated above the valley, and marked the spot beneath which lay the
silent pool of the “bloody pond.”
Directly on the shore of the lake, and nearer
to its western than to its eastern margin, lay
the extensive earthen ramparts and low buildings of William Henry. Two of the sweeping
bastions appeared to rest on the water which
washed their bases, while a deep ditch and extensive morasses guarded its other sides and
angles. The land had been cleared of wood
for a reasonable distance around the work, but
every other part of the scene lay in the green
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livery of nature, except where the limpid water mellowed the view, or the bold rocks thrust
their black and naked heads above the undulating outline of the mountain ranges. In its
front might be seen the scattered sentinels, who
held a weary watch against their numerous
foes; and within the walls themselves, the travelers looked down upon men still drowsy with
a night of vigilance. Toward the southeast, but
in immediate contact with the fort, was an entrenched camp, posted on a rocky eminence,
that would have been far more eligible for the
work itself, in which Hawkeye pointed out the
presence of those auxiliary regiments that had
so recently left the Hudson in their company.
From the woods, a little further to the south,
rose numerous dark and lurid smokes, that
were easily to be distinguished from the purer
exhalations of the springs, and which the scout
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also showed to Heyward, as evidences that the
enemy lay in force in that direction.
But the spectacle which most concerned the
young soldier was on the western bank of the
lake, though quite near to its southern termination. On a strip of land, which appeared
from his stand too narrow to contain such an
army, but which, in truth, extended many hundreds of yards from the shores of the Horican
to the base of the mountain, were to be seen the
white tents and military engines of an encampment of ten thousand men. Batteries were already thrown up in their front, and even while
the spectators above them were looking down,
with such different emotions, on a scene which
lay like a map beneath their feet, the roar of artillery rose from the valley, and passed off in
thundering echoes along the eastern hills.
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“Morning is just touching them below,” said
the deliberate and musing scout, “and the
watchers have a mind to wake up the sleepers
by the sound of cannon. We are a few hours too
late! Montcalm has already filled the woods
with his accursed Iroquois.”
“The place is, indeed, invested,” returned
Duncan; “but is there no expedient by which
we may enter? capture in the works would be
far preferable to falling again into the hands of
roving Indians.”
“See!” exclaimed the scout, unconsciously
directing the attention of Cora to the quarters
of her own father, “how that shot has made the
stones fly from the side of the commandant’s
house! Ay! these Frenchers will pull it to pieces
faster than it was put together, solid and thick
though it be!”
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“Heyward, I sicken at the sight of danger
that I cannot share,” said the undaunted but
anxious daughter. “Let us go to Montcalm, and
demand admission: he dare not deny a child
the boon.”
“You would scarce find the tent of the
Frenchman with the hair on your head”; said
the blunt scout. “If I had but one of the thousand boats which lie empty along that shore, it
might be done! Ha! here will soon be an end
of the firing, for yonder comes a fog that will
turn day to night, and make an Indian arrow
more dangerous than a molded cannon. Now,
if you are equal to the work, and will follow, I
will make a push; for I long to get down into
that camp, if it be only to scatter some Mingo
dogs that I see lurking in the skirts of yonder
thicket of birch.”
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“We are equal,” said Cora, firmly; “on such
an errand we will follow to any danger.”
The scout turned to her with a smile of honest and cordial approbation, as he answered:
“I would I had a thousand men, of brawny
limbs and quick eyes, that feared death as little as you! I’d send them jabbering Frenchers
back into their den again, afore the week was
ended, howling like so many fettered hounds
or hungry wolves. But, sir,” he added, turning from her to the rest of the party, “the fog
comes rolling down so fast, we shall have but
just the time to meet it on the plain, and use it
as a cover. Remember, if any accident should
befall me, to keep the air blowing on your left
cheeks–or, rather, follow the Mohicans; they’d
scent their way, be it in day or be it at night.”
He then waved his hand for them to follow,
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and threw himself down the steep declivity,
with free, but careful footsteps. Heyward assisted the sisters to descend, and in a few minutes they were all far down a mountain whose
sides they had climbed with so much toil and
pain.
The direction taken by Hawkeye soon
brought the travelers to the level of the plain,
nearly opposite to a sally-port in the western
curtain of the fort, which lay itself at the distance of about half a mile from the point where
he halted to allow Duncan to come up with
his charge. In their eagerness, and favored by
the nature of the ground, they had anticipated
the fog, which was rolling heavily down the
lake, and it became necessary to pause, until
the mists had wrapped the camp of the enemy
in their fleecy mantle. The Mohicans profited
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by the delay, to steal out of the woods, and to
make a survey of surrounding objects. They
were followed at a little distance by the scout,
with a view to profit early by their report, and
to obtain some faint knowledge for himself of
the more immediate localities.
In a very few moments he returned, his face
reddened with vexation, while he muttered his
disappointment in words of no very gentle import.
“Here has the cunning Frenchman been
posting a picket directly in our path,” he said;
“red-skins and whites; and we shall be as likely
to fall into their midst as to pass them in the
fog!”
“Cannot we make a circuit to avoid the danger,” asked Heyward, “and come into our path
again when it is passed?”
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“Who that once bends from the line of his
march in a fog can tell when or how to find it
again! The mists of Horican are not like the
curls from a peace-pipe, or the smoke which
settles above a mosquito fire.”
He was yet speaking, when a crashing sound
was heard, and a cannon-ball entered the
thicket, striking the body of a sapling, and rebounding to the earth, its force being much
expended by previous resistance. The Indians followed instantly like busy attendants on
the terrible messenger, and Uncas commenced
speaking earnestly and with much action, in
the Delaware tongue.
“It may be so, lad,” muttered the scout, when
he had ended; “for desperate fevers are not to
be treated like a toothache. Come, then, the fog
is shutting in.”
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“Stop!” cried Heyward; “first explain your
expectations.”
“‘Tis soon done, and a small hope it is; but it
is better than nothing. This shot that you see,”
added the scout, kicking the harmless iron with
his foot, “has plowed the ‘arth in its road from
the fort, and we shall hunt for the furrow it has
made, when all other signs may fail. No more
words, but follow, or the fog may leave us in
the middle of our path, a mark for both armies
to shoot at.”
Heyward perceiving that, in fact, a crisis had
arrived, when acts were more required than
words, placed himself between the sisters, and
drew them swiftly forward, keeping the dim
figure of their leader in his eye. It was soon
apparent that Hawkeye had not magnified the
power of the fog, for before they had proceeded
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twenty yards, it was difficult for the different individuals of the party to distinguish each
other in the vapor.
They had made their little circuit to the left,
and were already inclining again toward the
right, having, as Heyward thought, got over
nearly half the distance to the friendly works,
when his ears were saluted with the fierce summons, apparently within twenty feet of them,
of:
“Qui va la?”
“Push on!” whispered the scout, once more
bending to the left.
“Push on!” repeated Heyward; when the
summons was renewed by a dozen voices, each
of which seemed charged with menace.
“C’est moi,” cried Duncan, dragging rather
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than leading those he supported swiftly onward.
“Bete!–qui?–moi!”
“Ami de la France.”
“Tu m’as plus l’air d’un ennemi de la France;
arrete ou pardieu je te ferai ami du diable. Non!
feu, camarades, feu!”
The order was instantly obeyed, and the fog
was stirred by the explosion of fifty muskets.
Happily, the aim was bad, and the bullets cut
the air in a direction a little different from that
taken by the fugitives; though still so nigh
them, that to the unpractised ears of David and
the two females, it appeared as if they whistled within a few inches of the organs. The outcry was renewed, and the order, not only to fire
again, but to pursue, was too plainly audible.
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When Heyward briefly explained the meaning
of the words they heard, Hawkeye halted and
spoke with quick decision and great firmness.
“Let us deliver our fire,” he said; “they will
believe it a sortie, and give way, or they will
wait for reinforcements.”
The scheme was well conceived, but failed
in its effects. The instant the French heard
the pieces, it seemed as if the plain was alive
with men, muskets rattling along its whole extent, from the shores of the lake to the furthest
boundary of the woods.
“We shall draw their entire army upon us,
and bring on a general assault,” said Duncan:
“lead on, my friend, for your own life and
ours.”
The scout seemed willing to comply; but, in
the hurry of the moment, and in the change
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of position, he had lost the direction. In vain
he turned either cheek toward the light air;
they felt equally cool. In this dilemma, Uncas
lighted on the furrow of the cannon ball, where
it had cut the ground in three adjacent ant-hills.
“Give me the range!” said Hawkeye, bending to catch a glimpse of the direction, and then
instantly moving onward.
Cries, oaths, voices calling to each other, and
the reports of muskets, were now quick and
incessant, and, apparently, on every side of
them. Suddenly a strong glare of light flashed
across the scene, the fog rolled upward in thick
wreaths, and several cannons belched across
the plain, and the roar was thrown heavily back
from the bellowing echoes of the mountain.
“‘Tis from the fort!” exclaimed Hawkeye,
turning short on his tracks; “and we, like
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stricken fools, were rushing to the woods, under the very knives of the Maquas.”
The instant their mistake was rectified, the
whole party retraced the error with the utmost diligence. Duncan willingly relinquished
the support of Cora to the arm of Uncas and
Cora as readily accepted the welcome assistance. Men, hot and angry in pursuit, were
evidently on their footsteps, and each instant
threatened their capture, if not their destruction.
“Point de quartier aux coquins!” cried an eager pursuer, who seemed to direct the operations of the enemy.
“Stand firm, and be ready, my gallant Sixtieths!” suddenly exclaimed a voice above them;
“wait to see the enemy, fire low and sweep the
glacis.”
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“Father! father!” exclaimed a piercing cry
from out the mist: “it is I! Alice! thy own Elsie!
Spare, oh! save your daughters!”
“Hold!” shouted the former speaker, in the
awful tones of parental agony, the sound reaching even to the woods, and rolling back in
solemn echo. “‘Tis she! God has restored me
to my children! Throw open the sally-port; to
the field, Sixtieths, to the field; pull not a trigger, lest ye kill my lambs! Drive off these dogs
of France with your steel.”
Duncan heard the grating of the rusty
hinges, and darting to the spot, directed by the
sound, he met a long line of dark red warriors,
passing swiftly toward the glacis. He knew
them for his own battalion of the Royal Americans, and flying to their head, soon swept every
trace of his pursuers from before the works.
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For an instant, Cora and Alice had stood
trembling and bewildered by this unexpected
desertion; but before either had leisure for
speech, or even thought, an officer of gigantic
frame, whose locks were bleached with years
and service, but whose air of military grandeur
had been rather softened than destroyed by
time, rushed out of the body of mist, and
folded them to his bosom, while large scalding tears rolled down his pale and wrinkled
cheeks, and he exclaimed, in the peculiar accent of Scotland:
“For this I thank thee, Lord! Let danger come
as it will, thy servant is now prepared!”
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“Then go we in, to know his embassy;
Which I could, with ready guess,
declare,
Before the Frenchmen speak a
word of it.”
–King Henry V
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A FEW SUCCEEDING days were passed amid
the privations, the uproar, and the dangers of
the siege, which was vigorously pressed by a
power, against whose approaches Munro possessed no competent means of resistance. It appeared as if Webb, with his army, which lay
slumbering on the banks of the Hudson, had
utterly forgotten the strait to which his countrymen were reduced. Montcalm had filled the
woods of the portage with his savages, every
yell and whoop from whom rang through the
British encampment, chilling the hearts of men
who were already but too much disposed to
magnify the danger.
Not so, however, with the besieged. Animated by the words, and stimulated by the examples of their leaders, they had found their
courage, and maintained their ancient reputa-
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tion, with a zeal that did justice to the stern
character of their commander. As if satisfied
with the toil of marching through the wilderness to encounter his enemy, the French general, though of approved skill, had neglected
to seize the adjacent mountains; whence the besieged might have been exterminated with impunity, and which, in the more modern warfare
of the country, would not have been neglected
for a single hour. This sort of contempt for eminences, or rather dread of the labor of ascending them, might have been termed the besetting weakness of the warfare of the period. It
originated in the simplicity of the Indian contests, in which, from the nature of the combats, and the density of the forests, fortresses
were rare, and artillery next to useless. The
carelessness engendered by these usages descended even to the war of the Revolution and
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lost the States the important fortress of Ticonderoga opening a way for the army of Burgoyne into what was then the bosom of the
country. We look back at this ignorance, or
infatuation, whichever it may be called, with
wonder, knowing that the neglect of an eminence, whose difficulties, like those of Mount
Defiance, have been so greatly exaggerated,
would, at the present time, prove fatal to the
reputation of the engineer who had planned
the works at their base, or to that of the general
whose lot it was to defend them.
The tourist, the valetudinarian, or the amateur of the beauties of nature, who, in the
train of his four-in-hand, now rolls through
the scenes we have attempted to describe, in
quest of information, health, or pleasure, or
floats steadily toward his object on those arti-
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ficial waters which have sprung up under the
administration of a statesman17 who has dared
to stake his political character on the hazardous
issue, is not to suppose that his ancestors traversed those hills, or struggled with the same
currents with equal facility. The transportation of a single heavy gun was often considered
equal to a victory gained; if happily, the difficulties of the passage had not so far separated
it from its necessary concomitant, the ammunition, as to render it no more than a useless tube
of unwieldy iron.
The evils of this state of things pressed heavily on the fortunes of the resolute Scotsman
who now defended William Henry. Though his
adversary neglected the hills, he had planted
17 Evidently the late De Witt Clinton, who died governor of New York in 1828.
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his batteries with judgment on the plain, and
caused them to be served with vigor and skill.
Against this assault, the besieged could only
oppose the imperfect and hasty preparations of
a fortress in the wilderness.
It was in the afternoon of the fifth day of the
siege, and the fourth of his own service in it,
that Major Heyward profited by a parley that
had just been beaten, by repairing to the ramparts of one of the water bastions, to breathe
the cool air from the lake, and to take a survey of the progress of the siege. He was alone,
if the solitary sentinel who paced the mound
be excepted; for the artillerists had hastened
also to profit by the temporary suspension of
their arduous duties. The evening was delightfully calm, and the light air from the limpid
water fresh and soothing. It seemed as if, with
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the termination of the roar of artillery and the
plunging of shot, nature had also seized the
moment to assume her mildest and most captivating form. The sun poured down his parting glory on the scene, without the oppression of those fierce rays that belong to the climate and the season. The mountains looked
green, and fresh, and lovely, tempered with the
milder light, or softened in shadow, as thin vapors floated between them and the sun. The
numerous islands rested on the bosom of the
Horican, some low and sunken, as if embedded
in the waters, and others appearing to hover
about the element, in little hillocks of green velvet; among which the fishermen of the beleaguering army peacefully rowed their skiffs, or
floated at rest on the glassy mirror in quiet pursuit of their employment.
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The scene was at once animated and still. All
that pertained to nature was sweet, or simply
grand; while those parts which depended on
the temper and movements of man were lively
and playful.
Two little spotless flags were abroad, the one
on a salient angle of the fort, and the other on
the advanced battery of the besiegers; emblems
of the truth which existed, not only to the acts,
but it would seem, also, to the enmity of the
combatants.
Behind these again swung, heavily opening
and closing in silken folds, the rival standards
of England and France.
A hundred gay and thoughtless young
Frenchmen were drawing a net to the pebbly beach, within dangerous proximity to the
sullen but silent cannon of the fort, while the
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eastern mountain was sending back the loud
shouts and gay merriment that attended their
sport. Some were rushing eagerly to enjoy
the aquatic games of the lake, and others were
already toiling their way up the neighboring
hills, with the restless curiosity of their nation. To all these sports and pursuits, those of
the enemy who watched the besieged, and the
besieged themselves, were, however, merely
the idle though sympathizing spectators. Here
and there a picket had, indeed, raised a song,
or mingled in a dance, which had drawn the
dusky savages around them, from their lairs
in the forest. In short, everything wore rather
the appearance of a day of pleasure, than of
an hour stolen from the dangers and toil of a
bloody and vindictive warfare.
Duncan had stood in a musing attitude, con-
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templating this scene a few minutes, when his
eyes were directed to the glacis in front of the
sally-port already mentioned, by the sounds of
approaching footsteps. He walked to an angle
of the bastion, and beheld the scout advancing,
under the custody of a French officer, to the
body of the fort. The countenance of Hawkeye was haggard and careworn, and his air dejected, as though he felt the deepest degradation at having fallen into the power of his enemies. He was without his favorite weapon, and
his arms were even bound behind him with
thongs, made of the skin of a deer. The arrival of flags to cover the messengers of summons, had occurred so often of late, that when
Heyward first threw his careless glance on this
group, he expected to see another of the officers of the enemy, charged with a similar office but the instant he recognized the tall per-
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son and still sturdy though downcast features
of his friend, the woodsman, he started with
surprise, and turned to descend from the bastion into the bosom of the work.
The sounds of other voices, however, caught
his attention, and for a moment caused him to
forget his purpose. At the inner angle of the
mound he met the sisters, walking along the
parapet, in search, like himself, of air and relief
from confinement. They had not met from that
painful moment when he deserted them on the
plain, only to assure their safety. He had parted
from them worn with care, and jaded with fatigue; he now saw them refreshed and blooming, though timid and anxious. Under such an
inducement it will cause no surprise that the
young man lost sight for a time, of other objects in order to address them. He was, how-
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ever, anticipated by the voice of the ingenuous
and youthful Alice.
“Ah! thou tyrant! thou recreant knight! he
who abandons his damsels in the very lists,”
she cried; “here have we been days, nay, ages,
expecting you at our feet, imploring mercy and
forgetfulness of your craven backsliding, or I
should rather say, backrunning–for verily you
fled in the manner that no stricken deer, as
our worthy friend the scout would say, could
equal!”
“You know that Alice means our thanks and
our blessings,” added the graver and more
thoughtful Cora. “In truth, we have a little wonder why you should so rigidly absent
yourself from a place where the gratitude of the
daughters might receive the support of a parent’s thanks.”
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“Your father himself could tell you, that,
though absent from your presence, I have not
been altogether forgetful of your safety,” returned the young man; “the mastery of yonder
village of huts,” pointing to the neighboring
entrenched camp, “has been keenly disputed;
and he who holds it is sure to be possessed of
this fort, and that which it contains. My days
and nights have all been passed there since we
separated, because I thought that duty called
me thither. But,” he added, with an air of chagrin, which he endeavored, though unsuccessfully, to conceal, “had I been aware that what
I then believed a soldier’s conduct could be so
construed, shame would have been added to
the list of reasons.”
“Heyward! Duncan!” exclaimed Alice,
bending forward to read his half-averted coun-
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tenance, until a lock of her golden hair rested
on her flushed cheek, and nearly concealed the
tear that had started to her eye; “did I think this
idle tongue of mine had pained you, I would
silence it forever. Cora can say, if Cora would,
how justly we have prized your services, and
how deep–I had almost said, how fervent–is
our gratitude.”
“And will Cora attest the truth of this?” cried
Duncan, suffering the cloud to be chased from
his countenance by a smile of open pleasure.
“What says our graver sister? Will she find an
excuse for the neglect of the knight in the duty
of a soldier?”
Cora made no immediate answer, but turned
her face toward the water, as if looking on the
sheet of the Horican. When she did bend her
dark eyes on the young man, they were yet
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filled with an expression of anguish that at once
drove every thought but that of kind solicitude
from his mind.
“You are not well, dearest Miss Munro!” he
exclaimed; “we have trifled while you are in
suffering!”
“‘Tis nothing,” she answered, refusing his
support with feminine reserve. “That I cannot
see the sunny side of the picture of life, like
this artless but ardent enthusiast,” she added,
laying her hand lightly, but affectionately, on
the arm of her sister, “is the penalty of experience, and, perhaps, the misfortune of my nature. See,” she continued, as if determined to
shake off infirmity, in a sense of duty; “look
around you, Major Heyward, and tell me what
a prospect is this for the daughter of a soldier
whose greatest happiness is his honor and his
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military renown.”
“Neither ought nor shall be tarnished by circumstances over which he has had no control,”
Duncan warmly replied. “But your words recall me to my own duty. I go now to your gallant father, to hear his determination in matters of the last moment to the defense. God
bless you in every fortune, noble–Cora–I may
and must call you.” She frankly gave him
her hand, though her lip quivered, and her
cheeks gradually became of ashly paleness. “In
every fortune, I know you will be an ornament and honor to your sex. Alice, adieu”–his
voice changed from admiration to tenderness–
“adieu, Alice; we shall soon meet again; as conquerors, I trust, and amid rejoicings!”
Without waiting for an answer from either,
the young man threw himself down the grassy
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steps of the bastion, and moving rapidly across
the parade, he was quickly in the presence of
their father. Munro was pacing his narrow
apartment with a disturbed air and gigantic
strides as Duncan entered.
“You have anticipated my wishes, Major
Heyward,” he said; “I was about to request this
favor.”
“I am sorry to see, sir, that the messenger I
so warmly recommended has returned in custody of the French! I hope there is no reason to
distrust his fidelity?”
“The fidelity of ‘The Long Rifle’ is well
known to me,” returned Munro, “and is above
suspicion; though his usual good fortune
seems, at last, to have failed. Montcalm has got
him, and with the accursed politeness of his nation, he has sent him in with a doleful tale, of
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‘knowing how I valued the fellow, he could not
think of retaining him.’ A Jesuitical way that,
Major Duncan Heyward, of telling a man of his
misfortunes!”
“But the general and his succor?”
“Did ye look to the south as ye entered, and
could ye not see them?” said the old soldier,
laughing bitterly.
“Hoot! hoot! you’re an impatient boy, sir,
and cannot give the gentlemen leisure for their
march!”
“They are coming, then? The scout has said
as much?”
“When? and by what path? for the dunce
has omitted to tell me this. There is a letter, it
would seem, too; and that is the only agreeable
part of the matter. For the customary attentions
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of your Marquis of Montcalm–I warrant me,
Duncan, that he of Lothian would buy a dozen
such marquisates–but if the news of the letter
were bad, the gentility of this French monsieur
would certainly compel him to let us know it.”
“He keeps the letter, then, while he releases
the messenger?”
“Ay, that does he, and all for the sake of what
you call your ‘bonhommie’ I would venture, if
the truth was known, the fellow’s grandfather
taught the noble science of dancing.”
“But what says the scout? he has eyes and
ears, and a tongue. What verbal report does he
make?”
“Oh! sir, he is not wanting in natural organs,
and he is free to tell all that he has seen and
heard. The whole amount is this; there is a fort
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of his majesty’s on the banks of the Hudson,
called Edward, in honor of his gracious highness of York, you’ll know; and it is well filled
with armed men, as such a work should be.”
“But was there no movement, no signs of
any intention to advance to our relief?”
“There were the morning and evening parades; and when one of the provincial loons–
you’ll know, Duncan, you’re half a Scotsman
yourself–when one of them dropped his powder over his porretch, if it touched the coals,
it just burned!” Then, suddenly changing
his bitter, ironical manner, to one more grave
and thoughtful, he continued: “and yet there
might, and must be, something in that letter
which it would be well to know!”
“Our decision should be speedy,” said Duncan, gladly availing himself of this change of
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humor, to press the more important objects of
their interview; “I cannot conceal from you, sir,
that the camp will not be much longer tenable;
and I am sorry to add, that things appear no
better in the fort; more than half the guns are
bursted.”
“And how should it be otherwise? Some
were fished from the bottom of the lake; some
have been rusting in woods since the discovery
of the country; and some were never guns at
all–mere privateersmen’s playthings! Do you
think, sir, you can have Woolwich Warren in
the midst of a wilderness, three thousand miles
from Great Britain?”
“The walls are crumbling about our ears,
and provisions begin to fail us,” continued
Heyward, without regarding the new burst of
indignation; “even the men show signs of dis-
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content and alarm.”
“Major Heyward,” said Munro, turning to
his youthful associate with the dignity of his
years and superior rank; “I should have served
his majesty for half a century, and earned these
gray hairs in vain, were I ignorant of all you
say, and of the pressing nature of our circumstances; still, there is everything due to the
honor of the king’s arms, and something to
ourselves. While there is hope of succor, this
fortress will I defend, though it be to be done
with pebbles gathered on the lake shore. It is a
sight of the letter, therefore, that we want, that
we may know the intentions of the man the earl
of Loudon has left among us as his substitute.”
“And can I be of service in the matter?”
“Sir, you can; the marquis of Montcalm has,
in addition to his other civilities, invited me to
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a personal interview between the works and
his own camp; in order, as he says, to impart
some additional information. Now, I think it
would not be wise to show any undue solicitude to meet him, and I would employ you, an
officer of rank, as my substitute; for it would
but ill comport with the honor of Scotland to
let it be said one of her gentlemen was outdone
in civility by a native of any other country on
earth.”
Without assuming the supererogatory task
of entering into a discussion of the comparative merits of national courtesy, Duncan cheerfully assented to supply the place of the veteran
in the approaching interview. A long and confidential communication now succeeded, during which the young man received some additional insight into his duty, from the experi-
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ence and native acuteness of his commander,
and then the former took his leave.
As Duncan could only act as the representative of the commandant of the fort, the
ceremonies which should have accompanied
a meeting between the heads of the adverse
forces were, of course, dispensed with. The
truce still existed, and with a roll and beat of
the drum, and covered by a little white flag,
Duncan left the sally-port, within ten minutes
after his instructions were ended. He was received by the French officer in advance with
the usual formalities, and immediately accompanied to a distant marquee of the renowned
soldier who led the forces of France.
The general of the enemy received the youthful messenger, surrounded by his principal officers, and by a swarthy band of the native
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chiefs, who had followed him to the field,
with the warriors of their several tribes. Heyward paused short, when, in glancing his eyes
rapidly over the dark group of the latter, he
beheld the malignant countenance of Magua,
regarding him with the calm but sullen attention which marked the expression of that subtle
savage. A slight exclamation of surprise even
burst from the lips of the young man, but instantly, recollecting his errand, and the presence in which he stood, he suppressed every
appearance of emotion, and turned to the hostile leader, who had already advanced a step to
receive him.
The marquis of Montcalm was, at the period
of which we write, in the flower of his age, and,
it may be added, in the zenith of his fortunes.
But even in that enviable situation, he was af-
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fable, and distinguished as much for his attention to the forms of courtesy, as for that chivalrous courage which, only two short years afterward, induced him to throw away his life on
the plains of Abraham. Duncan, in turning his
eyes from the malign expression of Magua, suffered them to rest with pleasure on the smiling
and polished features, and the noble military
air, of the French general.
“Monsieur,” said the latter, “j’ai beaucoup de
plaisir a–bah!–ou est cet interprete?”
“Je crois, monsieur, qu’il ne sear pas necessaire,” Heyward modestly replied; “je parle un
peu francais.”
“Ah! j’en suis bien aise,” said Montcalm, taking Duncan familiarly by the arm, and leading him deep into the marquee, a little out
of earshot; “je deteste ces fripons-la; on ne
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sait jamais sur quel pie on est avec eux. Eh,
bien! monsieur,” he continued still speaking in
French; “though I should have been proud of
receiving your commandant, I am very happy
that he has seen proper to employ an officer so
distinguished, and who, I am sure, is so amiable, as yourself.”
Duncan bowed low, pleased with the compliment, in spite of a most heroic determination
to suffer no artifice to allure him into forgetfulness of the interest of his prince; and Montcalm, after a pause of a moment, as if to collect
his thoughts, proceeded:
“Your commandant is a brave man, and well
qualified to repel my assault. Mais, monsieur,
is it not time to begin to take more counsel of
humanity, and less of your courage? The one
as strongly characterizes the hero as the other.”
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“We consider the qualities as inseparable,”
returned Duncan, smiling; “but while we find
in the vigor of your excellency every motive to
stimulate the one, we can, as yet, see no particular call for the exercise of the other.”
Montcalm, in his turn, slightly bowed, but it
was with the air of a man too practised to remember the language of flattery. After musing
a moment, he added:
“It is possible my glasses have deceived me,
and that your works resist our cannon better
than I had supposed. You know our force?”
“Our accounts vary,” said Duncan, carelessly; “the highest, however, has not exceeded
twenty thousand men.”
The Frenchman bit his lip, and fastened his
eyes keenly on the other as if to read his
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thoughts; then, with a readiness peculiar to
himself, he continued, as if assenting to the
truth of an enumeration which quite doubled
his army:
“It is a poor compliment to the vigilance of
us soldiers, monsieur, that, do what we will, we
never can conceal our numbers. If it were to be
done at all, one would believe it might succeed
in these woods. Though you think it too soon
to listen to the calls of humanity,” he added,
smiling archly, “I may be permitted to believe
that gallantry is not forgotten by one so young
as yourself. The daughters of the commandant,
I learn, have passed into the fort since it was
invested?”
“It is true, monsieur; but, so far from weakening our efforts, they set us an example of
courage in their own fortitude. Were noth-
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ing but resolution necessary to repel so accomplished a soldier as M. de Montcalm, I would
gladly trust the defense of William Henry to the
elder of those ladies.”
“We have a wise ordinance in our Salique
laws, which says, ‘The crown of France shall
never degrade the lance to the distaff’,” said
Montcalm, dryly, and with a little hauteur; but
instantly adding, with his former frank and
easy air: “as all the nobler qualities are hereditary, I can easily credit you; though, as I said
before, courage has its limits, and humanity
must not be forgotten. I trust, monsieur, you
come authorized to treat for the surrender of
the place?”
“Has your excellency found our defense so
feeble as to believe the measure necessary?”
“I should be sorry to have the defense pro-
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tracted in such a manner as to irritate my red
friends there,” continued Montcalm, glancing
his eyes at the group of grave and attentive Indians, without attending to the other’s questions; “I find it difficult, even now, to limit them
to the usages of war.”
Heyward was silent; for a painful recollection of the dangers he had so recently escaped
came over his mind, and recalled the images of
those defenseless beings who had shared in all
his sufferings.
“Ces messieurs-la,” said Montcalm, following up the advantage which he conceived he
had gained, “are most formidable when baffled; and it is unnecessary to tell you with what
difficulty they are restrained in their anger. Eh
bien, monsieur! shall we speak of the terms?”
“I fear your excellency has been deceived as
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to the strength of William Henry, and the resources of its garrison!”
“I have not sat down before Quebec, but an
earthen work, that is defended by twenty-three
hundred gallant men,” was the laconic reply.
“Our mounds are earthen, certainly–nor are
they seated on the rocks of Cape Diamond; but
they stand on that shore which proved so destructive to Dieskau and his army. There is also
a powerful force within a few hours’ march of
us, which we account upon as a part of our
means.”
“Some six or eight thousand men,” returned
Montcalm, with much apparent indifference,
“whom their leader wisely judges to be safer
in their works than in the field.”
It was now Heyward’s turn to bite his lip
with vexation as the other so coolly alluded
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to a force which the young man knew to be
overrated. Both mused a little while in silence, when Montcalm renewed the conversation, in a way that showed he believed the visit
of his guest was solely to propose terms of capitulation. On the other hand, Heyward began to throw sundry inducements in the way
of the French general, to betray the discoveries he had made through the intercepted letter. The artifice of neither, however, succeeded;
and after a protracted and fruitless interview,
Duncan took his leave, favorably impressed
with an opinion of the courtesy and talents of
the enemy’s captain, but as ignorant of what
he came to learn as when he arrived. Montcalm followed him as far as the entrance of the
marquee, renewing his invitations to the commandant of the fort to give him an immediate
meeting in the open ground between the two
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armies.
There they separated, and Duncan returned
to the advanced post of the French, accompanied as before; whence he instantly proceeded
to the fort, and to the quarters of his own commander.
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‘EDG.–Before you fight the battle
ope this letter.”
–Lear
MAJOR HEYWARD FOUND Munro attended
only by his daughters. Alice sat upon his knee,
parting the gray hairs on the forehead of the
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old man with her delicate fingers; and whenever he affected to frown on her trifling, appeasing his assumed anger by pressing her
ruby lips fondly on his wrinkled brow. Cora
was seated nigh them, a calm and amused
looker-on; regarding the wayward movements
of her more youthful sister with that species
of maternal fondness which characterized her
love for Alice. Not only the dangers through
which they had passed, but those which still
impended above them, appeared to be momentarily forgotten, in the soothing indulgence of
such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had
profited by the short truce, to devote an instant
to the purest and best affection; the daughters
forgetting their fears, and the veteran his cares,
in the security of the moment. Of this scene,
Duncan, who, in his eagerness to report his arrival, had entered unannounced, stood many
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moments an unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the quick and dancing eyes of Alice soon caught a glimpse of his figure reflected
from a glass, and she sprang blushing from her
father’s knee, exclaiming aloud:
“Major Heyward!”
“What of the lad?” demanded her father; “I
have sent him to crack a little with the Frenchman. Ha, sir, you are young, and you’re nimble! Away with you, ye baggage; as if there
were not troubles enough for a soldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling
hussies as yourself!”
Alice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an apartment where
she perceived their presence was no longer desirable. Munro, instead of demanding the result of the young man’s mission, paced the
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room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his head inclined toward the
floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he
raised his eyes, glistening with a father’s fondness, and exclaimed:
“They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward,
and such as any one may boast of.”
“You are not now to learn my opinion of
your daughters, Colonel Munro.”
“True, lad, true,” interrupted the impatient
old man; “you were about opening your mind
more fully on that matter the day you got in,
but I did not think it becoming in an old soldier
to be talking of nuptial blessings and wedding
jokes when the enemies of his king were likely
to be unbidden guests at the feast. But I was
wrong, Duncan, boy, I was wrong there; and I
am now ready to hear what you have to say.”
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“Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have just now, a message from Montcalm–”
“Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the
devil, sir!” exclaimed the hasty veteran. “He
is not yet master of William Henry, nor shall
he ever be, provided Webb proves himself the
man he should. No, sir, thank Heaven we are
not yet in such a strait that it can be said Munro
is too much pressed to discharge the little domestic duties of his own family. Your mother
was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan; and I’ll just give you a hearing, though all
the knights of St. Louis were in a body at the
sally-port, with the French saint at their head,
crying to speak a word under favor. A pretty
degree of knighthood, sir, is that which can be
bought with sugar hogsheads! and then your
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twopenny marquisates. The thistle is the order
for dignity and antiquity; the veritable ‘nemo
me impune lacessit’ of chivalry. Ye had ancestors in that degree, Duncan, and they were an
ornament to the nobles of Scotland.”
Heyward, who perceived that his superior
took a malicious pleasure in exhibiting his contempt for the message of the French general,
was fain to humor a spleen that he knew would
be short-lived; he therefore, replied with as
much indifference as he could assume on such
a subject:
“My request, as you know, sir, went so far as
to presume to the honor of being your son.”
“Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself
very plainly comprehended. But, let me ask ye,
sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl?”
“On my honor, no,” exclaimed Duncan,
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warmly; “there would have been an abuse of
a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my
situation for such a purpose.”
“Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough in their place.
But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and
of a mind too elevated and improved, to need
the guardianship even of a father.”
“Cora!”
“Ay–Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not, sir?”
“I–I–I was not conscious of having mentioned her name,” said Duncan, stammering.
“And to marry whom, then, did you wish
my consent, Major Heyward?” demanded the
old soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of
offended feeling.
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“You have another, and not less lovely
child.”
“Alice!” exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to that with which Duncan had just
repeated the name of her sister.
“Such was the direction of my wishes, sir.”
The young man awaited in silence the result
of the extraordinary effect produced by a communication, which, as it now appeared, was so
unexpected. For several minutes Munro paced
the chamber with long and rapid strides, his
rigid features working convulsively, and every
faculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of
his own mind. At length, he paused directly in
front of Heyward, and riveting his eyes upon
those of the other, he said, with a lip that quivered violently:
“Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the
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sake of him whose blood is in your veins; I
have loved you for your own good qualities;
and I have loved you, because I thought you
would contribute to the happiness of my child.
But all this love would turn to hatred, were I assured that what I so much apprehend is true.”
“God forbid that any act or thought of mine
should lead to such a change!” exclaimed the
young man, whose eye never quailed under
the penetrating look it encountered. Without
adverting to the impossibility of the other’s
comprehending those feelings which were hid
in his own bosom, Munro suffered himself to
be appeased by the unaltered countenance he
met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued:
“You would be my son, Duncan, and you’re
ignorant of the history of the man you wish to
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call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I
will open to you the wounds of a seared heart,
in as few words as may be suitable.”
By this time, the message of Montcalm was
as much forgotten by him who bore it as by the
man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew
a chair, and while the veteran communed a few
moments with his own thoughts, apparently in
sadness, the youth suppressed his impatience
in a look and attitude of respectful attention.
At length, the former spoke:
“You’ll know, already, Major Heyward, that
my family was both ancient and honorable,”
commenced the Scotsman; “though it might
not altogether be endowed with that amount
of wealth that should correspond with its degree. I was, maybe, such an one as yourself
when I plighted my faith to Alice Graham, the
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only child of a neighboring laird of some estate. But the connection was disagreeable to
her father, on more accounts than my poverty.
I did, therefore, what an honest man should–
restored the maiden her troth, and departed
the country in the service of my king. I had
seen many regions, and had shed much blood
in different lands, before duty called me to the
islands of the West Indies. There it was my lot
to form a connection with one who in time became my wife, and the mother of Cora. She
was the daughter of a gentleman of those isles,
by a lady whose misfortune it was, if you will,”
said the old man, proudly, “to be descended,
remotely, from that unfortunate class who are
so basely enslaved to administer to the wants
of a luxurious people. Ay, sir, that is a curse, entailed on Scotland by her unnatural union with
a foreign and trading people. But could I find a
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man among them who would dare to reflect on
my child, he should feel the weight of a father’s
anger! Ha! Major Heyward, you are yourself
born at the south, where these unfortunate beings are considered of a race inferior to your
own.”
“‘Tis most unfortunately true, sir,” said Duncan, unable any longer to prevent his eyes from
sinking to the floor in embarrassment.
“And you cast it on my child as a reproach!
You scorn to mingle the blood of the Heywards with one so degraded–lovely and virtuous though she be?” fiercely demanded the
jealous parent.
“Heaven protect me from a prejudice so unworthy of my reason!” returned Duncan, at
the same time conscious of such a feeling, and
that as deeply rooted as if it had been ingrafted
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in his nature. “The sweetness, the beauty, the
witchery of your younger daughter, Colonel
Munro, might explain my motives without imputing to me this injustice.”
“Ye are right, sir,” returned the old man,
again changing his tones to those of gentleness, or rather softness; “the girl is the image of what her mother was at her years, and
before she had become acquainted with grief.
When death deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland, enriched by the marriage;
and, would you think it, Duncan! the suffering angel had remained in the heartless state
of celibacy twenty long years, and that for the
sake of a man who could forget her! She did
more, sir; she overlooked my want of faith,
and, all difficulties being now removed, she
took me for her husband.”
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“And became the mother of Alice?” exclaimed Duncan, with an eagerness that might
have proved dangerous at a moment when the
thoughts of Munro were less occupied that at
present.
“She did, indeed,” said the old man, “and
dearly did she pay for the blessing she bestowed. But she is a saint in heaven, sir; and
it ill becomes one whose foot rests on the grave
to mourn a lot so blessed. I had her but a single year, though; a short term of happiness for
one who had seen her youth fade in hopeless
pining.”
There was something so commanding in the
distress of the old man, that Heyward did
not dare to venture a syllable of consolation.
Munro sat utterly unconscious of the other’s
presence, his features exposed and working
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with the anguish of his regrets, while heavy
tears fell from his eyes, and rolled unheeded
from his cheeks to the floor. At length he
moved, and as if suddenly recovering his recollection; when he arose, and taking a single
turn across the room, he approached his companion with an air of military grandeur, and
demanded:
“Have you not, Major Heyward, some communication that I should hear from the marquis
de Montcalm?”
Duncan started in his turn, and immediately
commenced in an embarrassed voice, the halfforgotten message. It is unnecessary to dwell
upon the evasive though polite manner with
which the French general had eluded every attempt of Heyward to worm from him the purport of the communication he had proposed
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making, or on the decided, though still polished message, by which he now gave his enemy to understand, that, unless he chose to receive it in person, he should not receive it at
all. As Munro listened to the detail of Duncan, the excited feelings of the father gradually
gave way before the obligations of his station,
and when the other was done, he saw before
him nothing but the veteran, swelling with the
wounded feelings of a soldier.
“You have said enough, Major Heyward,”
exclaimed the angry old man; “enough to make
a volume of commentary on French civility.
Here has this gentleman invited me to a conference, and when I send him a capable substitute,
for ye’re all that, Duncan, though your years
are but few, he answers me with a riddle.”
“He may have thought less favorably of the
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substitute, my dear sir; and you will remember
that the invitation, which he now repeats, was
to the commandant of the works, and not to his
second.”
“Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all
the power and dignity of him who grants the
commission? He wishes to confer with Munro!
Faith, sir, I have much inclination to indulge
the man, if it should only be to let him behold
the firm countenance we maintain in spite of
his numbers and his summons. There might be
not bad policy in such a stroke, young man.”
Duncan, who believed it of the last importance that they should speedily come to the
contents of the letter borne by the scout, gladly
encouraged this idea.
“Without doubt, he could gather no confidence by witnessing our indifference,” he said.
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“You never said truer word. I could wish,
sir, that he would visit the works in open day,
and in the form of a storming party; that is
the least failing method of proving the countenance of an enemy, and would be far preferable to the battering system he has chosen.
The beauty and manliness of warfare has been
much deformed, Major Heyward, by the arts of
your Monsieur Vauban. Our ancestors were far
above such scientific cowardice!”
“It may be very true, sir; but we are now
obliged to repel art by art. What is your pleasure in the matter of the interview?”
“I will meet the Frenchman, and that without
fear or delay; promptly, sir, as becomes a servant of my royal master. Go, Major Heyward,
and give them a flourish of the music; and send
out a messenger to let them know who is com-
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ing. We will follow with a small guard, for
such respect is due to one who holds the honor
of his king in keeping; and hark’ee, Duncan,”
he added, in a half whisper, though they were
alone, “it may be prudent to have some aid at
hand, in case there should be treachery at the
bottom of it all.”
The young man availed himself of this order
to quit the apartment; and, as the day was fast
coming to a close, he hastened without delay, to
make the necessary arrangements. A very few
minutes only were necessary to parade a few
files, and to dispatch an orderly with a flag to
announce the approach of the commandant of
the fort. When Duncan had done both these, he
led the guard to the sally-port, near which he
found his superior ready, waiting his appearance. As soon as the usual ceremonials of a mil-
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itary departure were observed, the veteran and
his more youthful companion left the fortress,
attended by the escort.
They had proceeded only a hundred yards
from the works, when the little array which
attended the French general to the conference
was seen issuing from the hollow way which
formed the bed of a brook that ran between the
batteries of the besiegers and the fort. From the
moment that Munro left his own works to appear in front of his enemy’s, his air had been
grand, and his step and countenance highly
military. The instant he caught a glimpse of the
white plume that waved in the hat of Montcalm, his eye lighted, and age no longer appeared to possess any influence over his vast
and still muscular person.
“Speak to the boys to be watchful, sir,” he
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said, in an undertone, to Duncan; “and to look
well to their flints and steel, for one is never
safe with a servant of these Louis’s; at the same
time, we shall show them the front of men in
deep security. Ye’ll understand me, Major Heyward!”
He was interrupted by the clamor of a
drum from the approaching Frenchmen, which
was immediately answered, when each party
pushed an orderly in advance, bearing a white
flag, and the wary Scotsman halted with his
guard close at his back. As soon as this slight
salutation had passed, Montcalm moved toward them with a quick but graceful step, baring his head to the veteran, and dropping his
spotless plume nearly to the earth in courtesy.
If the air of Munro was more commanding and
manly, it wanted both the ease and insinuating
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polish of that of the Frenchman. Neither spoke
for a few moments, each regarding the other
with curious and interested eyes. Then, as became his superior rank and the nature of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. After uttering the usual words of greeting, he turned to
Duncan, and continued, with a smile of recognition, speaking always in French:
“I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have
given us the pleasure of your company on this
occasion. There will be no necessity to employ
an ordinary interpreter; for, in your hands, I
feel the same security as if I spoke your language myself.”
Duncan acknowledged the compliment,
when Montcalm, turning to his guard, which in
imitation of that of their enemies, pressed close
upon him, continued:
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“En arriere, mes enfants–il fait chaud—
retirez-vous un peu.”
Before Major Heyward would imitate this
proof of confidence, he glanced his eyes around
the plain, and beheld with uneasiness the numerous dusky groups of savages, who looked
out from the margin of the surrounding woods,
curious spectators of the interview.
“Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowledge the difference in our situation,” he
said, with some embarrassment, pointing at
the same time toward those dangerous foes,
who were to be seen in almost every direction.
“Were we to dismiss our guard, we should
stand here at the mercy of our enemies.”
“Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of
‘un gentilhomme Francais’, for your safety,”
returned Montcalm, laying his hand impres-
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sively on his heart; “it should suffice.”
“It shall. Fall back,” Duncan added to the officer who led the escort; “fall back, sir, beyond
hearing, and wait for orders.”
Munro witnessed this movement with manifest uneasiness; nor did he fail to demand an
instant explanation.
“Is it not our interest, sir, to betray distrust?” retorted Duncan. “Monsieur de Montcalm pledges his word for our safety, and I
have ordered the men to withdraw a little, in
order to prove how much we depend on his assurance.”
“It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening reliance on the faith of these marquesses, or marquis, as they call themselves.
Their patents of nobility are too common to be
certain that they bear the seal of true honor.”
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“You forget, dear sir, that we confer with
an officer, distinguished alike in Europe and
America for his deeds. From a soldier of his
reputation we can have nothing to apprehend.”
The old man made a gesture of resignation,
though his rigid features still betrayed his obstinate adherence to a distrust, which he derived from a sort of hereditary contempt of
his enemy, rather than from any present signs
which might warrant so uncharitable a feeling.
Montcalm waited patiently until this little dialogue in demi-voice was ended, when he drew
nigher, and opened the subject of their conference.
“I have solicited this interview from your superior, monsieur,” he said, “because I believe
he will allow himself to be persuaded that he
has already done everything which is neces-
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sary for the honor of his prince, and will now
listen to the admonitions of humanity. I will
forever bear testimony that his resistance has
been gallant, and was continued as long as
there was hope.”
When this opening was translated to Munro,
he answered with dignity, but with sufficient
courtesy:
“However I may prize such testimony from
Monsieur Montcalm, it will be more valuable
when it shall be better merited.”
The French general smiled, as Duncan gave
him the purport of this reply, and observed:
“What is now so freely accorded to approved
courage, may be refused to useless obstinacy.
Monsieur would wish to see my camp, and witness for himself our numbers, and the impossibility of his resisting them with success?”
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“I know that the king of France is well
served,” returned the unmoved Scotsman, as
soon as Duncan ended his translation; “but my
own royal master has as many and as faithful
troops.”
“Though not at hand, fortunately for us,”
said Montcalm, without waiting, in his ardor,
for the interpreter. “There is a destiny in war, to
which a brave man knows how to submit with
the same courage that he faces his foes.”
“Had I been conscious that Monsieur Montcalm was master of the English, I should have
spared myself the trouble of so awkward a
translation,” said the vexed Duncan, dryly; remembering instantly his recent by-play with
Munro.
“Your pardon, monsieur,” rejoined the
Frenchman, suffering a slight color to appear
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on his dark cheek. “There is a vast difference
between understanding and speaking a foreign
tongue; you will, therefore, please to assist me
still.” Then, after a short pause, he added:
“These hills afford us every opportunity of reconnoitering your works, messieurs, and I am
possibly as well acquainted with their weak
condition as you can be yourselves.”
“Ask the French general if his glasses can
reach to the Hudson,” said Munro, proudly;
“and if he knows when and where to expect the
army of Webb.”
“Let General Webb be his own interpreter,”
returned the politic Montcalm, suddenly extending an open letter toward Munro as he
spoke; “you will there learn, monsieur, that his
movements are not likely to prove embarrassing to my army.”
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The veteran seized the offered paper, without waiting for Duncan to translate the speech,
and with an eagerness that betrayed how important he deemed its contents. As his eye
passed hastily over the words, his countenance
changed from its look of military pride to one
of deep chagrin; his lip began to quiver; and
suffering the paper to fall from his hand, his
head dropped upon his chest, like that of a man
whose hopes were withered at a single blow.
Duncan caught the letter from the ground, and
without apology for the liberty he took, he read
at a glance its cruel purport. Their common
superior, so far from encouraging them to resist, advised a speedy surrender, urging in the
plainest language, as a reason, the utter impossibility of his sending a single man to their rescue.
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“Here is no deception!” exclaimed Duncan,
examining the billet both inside and out; “this
is the signature of Webb, and must be the captured letter.”
“The man has betrayed me!” Munro at
length bitterly exclaimed; “he has brought dishonor to the door of one where disgrace was
never before known to dwell, and shame has
he heaped heavily on my gray hairs.”
“Say not so,” cried Duncan; “we are yet masters of the fort, and of our honor. Let us, then,
sell our lives at such a rate as shall make our
enemies believe the purchase too dear.”
“Boy, I thank thee,” exclaimed the old man,
rousing himself from his stupor; “you have, for
once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will
go back, and dig our graves behind those ramparts.”
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“Messieurs,” said Montcalm, advancing toward them a step, in generous interest, “you
little know Louis de St. Veran if you believe
him capable of profiting by this letter to humble brave men, or to build up a dishonest reputation for himself. Listen to my terms before
you leave me.”
“What says the Frenchman?” demanded the
veteran, sternly; “does he make a merit of having captured a scout, with a note from headquarters? Sir, he had better raise this siege, to
go and sit down before Edward if he wishes to
frighten his enemy with words.”
Duncan explained the other’s meaning.
“Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you,”
the veteran added, more calmly, as Duncan
ended.
“To retain the fort is now impossible,” said
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his liberal enemy; “it is necessary to the interests of my master that it should be destroyed;
but as for yourselves and your brave comrades,
there is no privilege dear to a soldier that shall
be denied.”
“Our colors?” demanded Heyward.
“Carry them to England, and show them to
your king.”
“Our arms?”
“Keep them; none can use them better.”
“Our march; the surrender of the place?”
“Shall all be done in a way most honorable
to yourselves.”
Duncan now turned to explain these proposals to his commander, who heard him with
amazement, and a sensibility that was deeply
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touched by so unusual and unexpected generosity.
“Go you, Duncan,” he said; “go with this
marquess, as, indeed, marquess he should be;
go to his marquee and arrange it all. I have
lived to see two things in my old age that never
did I expect to behold. An Englishman afraid to
support a friend, and a Frenchman too honest
to profit by his advantage.”
So saying, the veteran again dropped his
head to his chest, and returned slowly toward
the fort, exhibiting, by the dejection of his air,
to the anxious garrison, a harbinger of evil tidings.
From the shock of this unexpected blow
the haughty feelings of Munro never recovered; but from that moment there commenced
a change in his determined character, which
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accompanied him to a speedy grave. Duncan
remained to settle the terms of the capitulation. He was seen to re-enter the works during
the first watches of the night, and immediately
after a private conference with the commandant, to leave them again. It was then openly
announced that hostilities must cease–Munro
having signed a treaty by which the place was
to be yielded to the enemy, with the morning;
the garrison to retain their arms, the colors and
their baggage, and, consequently, according to
military opinion, their honor.
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“Weave we the woof.
The thread is spun.
The web is wove.
The work is done.”
–Gray
THE HOSTILE ARMIES, which lay in the
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wilds of the Horican, passed the night of
the ninth of August, 1757, much in the manner they would, had they encountered on the
fairest field of Europe. While the conquered
were still, sullen, and dejected, the victors triumphed. But there are limits alike to grief and
joy; and long before the watches of the morning
came the stillness of those boundless woods
was only broken by a gay call from some exulting young Frenchman of the advanced pickets,
or a menacing challenge from the fort, which
sternly forbade the approach of any hostile
footsteps before the stipulated moment. Even
these occasional threatening sounds ceased to
be heard in that dull hour which precedes the
day, at which period a listener might have
sought in vain any evidence of the presence
of those armed powers that then slumbered on
the shores of the “holy lake.”
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It was during these moments of deep silence that the canvas which concealed the entrance to a spacious marquee in the French encampment was shoved aside, and a man issued from beneath the drapery into the open
air. He was enveloped in a cloak that might
have been intended as a protection from the
chilling damps of the woods, but which served
equally well as a mantle to conceal his person.
He was permitted to pass the grenadier, who
watched over the slumbers of the French commander, without interruption, the man making
the usual salute which betokens military deference, as the other passed swiftly through the
little city of tents, in the direction of William
Henry. Whenever this unknown individual encountered one of the numberless sentinels who
crossed his path, his answer was prompt, and,
as it appeared, satisfactory; for he was uni-
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formly allowed to proceed without further interrogation.
With the exception of such repeated but brief
interruptions, he had moved silently from the
center of the camp to its most advanced outposts, when he drew nigh the soldier who held
his watch nearest to the works of the enemy. As
he approached he was received with the usual
challenge:
“Qui vive?”
“France,” was the reply.
“Le mot d’ordre?”
“La victorie,” said the other, drawing so nigh
as to be heard in a loud whisper.
“C’est bien,” returned the sentinel, throwing his musket from the charge to his shoulder;
“vous promenez bien matin, monsieur!”
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“Il est necessaire d’etre vigilant, mon enfant,” the other observed, dropping a fold of
his cloak, and looking the soldier close in the
face as he passed him, still continuing his
way toward the British fortification. The man
started; his arms rattled heavily as he threw
them forward in the lowest and most respectful salute; and when he had again recovered
his piece, he turned to walk his post, muttering
between his teeth:
“Il faut etre vigilant, en verite! je crois que
nous avons la, un caporal qui ne dort jamais!”
The officer proceeded, without affecting to
hear the words which escaped the sentinel in
his surprise; nor did he again pause until he
had reached the low strand, and in a somewhat dangerous vicinity to the western water bastion of the fort. The light of an ob-
527
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scure moon was just sufficient to render objects, though dim, perceptible in their outlines.
He, therefore, took the precaution to place himself against the trunk of a tree, where he leaned
for many minutes, and seemed to contemplate
the dark and silent mounds of the English
works in profound attention. His gaze at the
ramparts was not that of a curious or idle spectator; but his looks wandered from point to
point, denoting his knowledge of military usages, and betraying that his search was not
unaccompanied by distrust. At length he appeared satisfied; and having cast his eyes impatiently upward toward the summit of the eastern mountain, as if anticipating the approach
of the morning, he was in the act of turning on
his footsteps, when a light sound on the nearest
angle of the bastion caught his ear, and induced
him to remain.
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Just then a figure was seen to approach the
edge of the rampart, where it stood, apparently
contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the
French encampment. Its head was then turned
toward the east, as though equally anxious for
the appearance of light, when the form leaned
against the mound, and seemed to gaze upon
the glassy expanse of the waters, which, like
a submarine firmament, glittered with its thousand mimic stars. The melancholy air, the hour,
together with the vast frame of the man who
thus leaned, musing, against the English ramparts, left no doubt as to his person in the mind
of the observant spectator. Delicacy, no less
than prudence, now urged him to retire; and
he had moved cautiously round the body of
the tree for that purpose, when another sound
drew his attention, and once more arrested his
footsteps. It was a low and almost inaudible
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movement of the water, and was succeeded by
a grating of pebbles one against the other. In
a moment he saw a dark form rise, as it were,
out of the lake, and steal without further noise
to the land, within a few feet of the place where
he himself stood. A rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the watery mirror; but before it could be discharged his own hand was
on the lock.
“Hugh!”
exclaimed the savage, whose
treacherous aim was so singularly and so unexpectedly interrupted.
Without making any reply, the French officer laid his hand on the shoulder of the Indian,
and led him in profound silence to a distance
from the spot, where their subsequent dialogue
might have proved dangerous, and where it
seemed that one of them, at least, sought a vic-
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tim. Then throwing open his cloak, so as to
expose his uniform and the cross of St. Louis
which was suspended at his breast, Montcalm
sternly demanded:
“What means this? Does not my son know
that the hatchet is buried between the English
and his Canadian Father?”
“What can the Hurons do?” returned the
savage, speaking also, though imperfectly, in
the French language.
“Not a warrior has a scalp, and the pale faces
make friends!”
“Ha, Le Renard Subtil! Methinks this is an
excess of zeal for a friend who was so late an
enemy! How many suns have set since Le Renard struck the war-post of the English?”
“Where is that sun?” demanded the sullen
savage. “Behind the hill; and it is dark and
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cold. But when he comes again, it will be bright
and warm. Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe.
There have been clouds, and many mountains
between him and his nation; but now he shines
and it is a clear sky!”
“That Le Renard has power with his people,
I well know,” said Montcalm; “for yesterday he
hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear
him at the council-fire.”
“Magua is a great chief.”
“Let him prove it, by teaching his nation
how to conduct themselves toward our new
friends.”
“Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his
young men into the woods, and fire his cannon
at the earthen house?” demanded the subtle
Indian.
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“To subdue it. My master owns the land, and
your father was ordered to drive off these English squatters. They have consented to go, and
now he calls them enemies no longer.”
“‘Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color it
with blood. It is now bright; when it is red, it
shall be buried.”
“But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies
of France. The enemies of the great king across
the salt lake are his enemies; his friends, the
friends of the Hurons.”
“Friends!” repeated the Indian in scorn. “Let
his father give Magua a hand.”
Montcalm, who felt that his influence over
the warlike tribes he had gathered was to
be maintained by concession rather than by
power, complied reluctantly with the other’s
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request. The savage placed the fingers of the
French commander on a deep scar in his bosom, and then exultingly demanded:
“Does my father know that?”
“What warrior does not? ‘Tis where a leaden
bullet has cut.”
“And this?” continued the Indian, who had
turned his naked back to the other, his body being without its usual calico mantle.
“This!–my son has been sadly injured here;
who has done this?”
“Magua slept hard in the English wigwams,
and the sticks have left their mark,” returned
the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not
conceal the fierce temper that nearly choked
him. Then, recollecting himself, with sudden
and native dignity, he added: “Go; teach your
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young men it is peace. Le Renard Subtil knows
how to speak to a Huron warrior.”
Without deigning to bestow further words,
or to wait for any answer, the savage cast his
rifle into the hollow of his arm, and moved
silently through the encampment toward the
woods where his own tribe was known to lie.
Every few yards as he proceeded he was challenged by the sentinels; but he stalked sullenly
onward, utterly disregarding the summons of
the soldiers, who only spared his life because
they knew the air and tread no less than the
obstinate daring of an Indian.
Montcalm lingered long and melancholy on
the strand where he had been left by his companion, brooding deeply on the temper which
his ungovernable ally had just discovered. Already had his fair fame been tarnished by one
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horrid scene, and in circumstances fearfully
resembling those under which he now found
himself. As he mused he became keenly sensible of the deep responsibility they assume
who disregard the means to attain the end, and
of all the danger of setting in motion an engine which it exceeds human power to control.
Then shaking off a train of reflections that he
accounted a weakness in such a moment of triumph, he retraced his steps toward his tent,
giving the order as he passed to make the signal that should arouse the army from its slumbers.
The first tap of the French drums was echoed
from the bosom of the fort, and presently the
valley was filled with the strains of martial music, rising long, thrilling and lively above the
rattling accompaniment. The horns of the vic-
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tors sounded merry and cheerful flourishes,
until the last laggard of the camp was at his
post; but the instant the British fifes had blown
their shrill signal, they became mute. In the
meantime the day had dawned, and when the
line of the French army was ready to receive its
general, the rays of a brilliant sun were glancing along the glittering array. Then that success, which was already so well known, was officially announced; the favored band who were
selected to guard the gates of the fort were detailed, and defiled before their chief; the signal
of their approach was given, and all the usual
preparations for a change of masters were ordered and executed directly under the guns of
the contested works.
A very different scene presented itself within
the lines of the Anglo-American army. As
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soon as the warning signal was given, it exhibited all the signs of a hurried and forced departure. The sullen soldiers shouldered their
empty tubes and fell into their places, like men
whose blood had been heated by the past contest, and who only desired the opportunity to
revenge an indignity which was still wounding
to their pride, concealed as it was under the observances of military etiquette.
Women and children ran from place to place,
some bearing the scanty remnants of their baggage, and others searching in the ranks for
those countenances they looked up to for protection.
Munro appeared among his silent troops
firm but dejected. It was evident that the unexpected blow had struck deep into his heart,
though he struggled to sustain his misfortune
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with the port of a man.
Duncan was touched at the quiet and impressive exhibition of his grief. He had discharged his own duty, and he now pressed to
the side of the old man, to know in what particular he might serve him.
“My daughters,” was the brief but expressive reply.
“Good heavens! are not arrangements already made for their convenience?”
“To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward,” said the veteran. “All that you see here,
claim alike to be my children.”
Duncan had heard enough. Without losing
one of those moments which had now become
so precious, he flew toward the quarters of
Munro, in quest of the sisters. He found them
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on the threshold of the low edifice, already prepared to depart, and surrounded by a clamorous and weeping assemblage of their own
sex, that had gathered about the place, with a
sort of instinctive consciousness that it was the
point most likely to be protected. Though the
cheeks of Cora were pale and her countenance
anxious, she had lost none of her firmness; but
the eyes of Alice were inflamed, and betrayed
how long and bitterly she had wept. They both,
however, received the young man with undisguised pleasure; the former, for a novelty, being
the first to speak.
“The fort is lost,” she said, with a melancholy smile; “though our good name, I trust,
remains.”
“‘Tis brighter than ever. But, dearest Miss
Munro, it is time to think less of others, and
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to make some provision for yourself. Military
usage–pride–that pride on which you so much
value yourself, demands that your father and
I should for a little while continue with the
troops. Then where to seek a proper protector for you against the confusion and chances
of such a scene?”
“None is necessary,” returned Cora; “who
will dare to injure or insult the daughter of such
a father, at a time like this?”
“I would not leave you alone,” continued the
youth, looking about him in a hurried manner, “for the command of the best regiment in
the pay of the king. Remember, our Alice is
not gifted with all your firmness, and God only
knows the terror she might endure.”
“You may be right,” Cora replied, smiling
again, but far more sadly than before. “Listen!
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chance has already sent us a friend when he is
most needed.”
Duncan did listen, and on the instant comprehended her meaning. The low and serious
sounds of the sacred music, so well known to
the eastern provinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him to an apartment in an adjacent building, which had already been deserted
by its customary tenants. There he found
David, pouring out his pious feelings through
the only medium in which he ever indulged.
Duncan waited, until, by the cessation of the
movement of the hand, he believed the strain
was ended, when, by touching his shoulder, he
drew the attention of the other to himself, and
in a few words explained his wishes.
“Even so,” replied the single-minded disciple of the King of Israel, when the young man
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had ended; “I have found much that is comely
and melodious in the maidens, and it is fitting that we who have consorted in so much
peril, should abide together in peace. I will attend them, when I have completed my morning praise, to which nothing is now wanting
but the doxology. Wilt thou bear a part, friend?
The meter is common, and the tune ‘Southwell’.”
Then, extending the little volume, and giving the pitch of the air anew with considerate
attention, David recommenced and finished
his strains, with a fixedness of manner that it
was not easy to interrupt. Heyward was fain
to wait until the verse was ended; when, seeing David relieving himself from the spectacles, and replacing the book, he continued.
“It will be your duty to see that none dare to
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approach the ladies with any rude intention, or
to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of their
brave father. In this task you will be seconded
by the domestics of their household.”
“Even so.”
“It is possible that the Indians and stragglers
of the enemy may intrude, in which case you
will remind them of the terms of the capitulation, and threaten to report their conduct to
Montcalm. A word will suffice.”
“If not, I have that here which shall,” returned David, exhibiting his book, with an air
in which meekness and confidence were singularly blended. Here are words which, uttered, or rather thundered, with proper emphasis, and in measured time, shall quiet the most
unruly temper:
“‘Why rage the heathen furiously’?”
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“Enough,” said Heyward, interrupting the
burst of his musical invocation; “we understand each other; it is time that we should now
assume our respective duties.”
Gamut cheerfully assented, and together
they sought the females. Cora received her new
and somewhat extraordinary protector courteously, at least; and even the pallid features
of Alice lighted again with some of their native archness as she thanked Heyward for his
care. Duncan took occasion to assure them he
had done the best that circumstances permitted, and, as he believed, quite enough for the
security of their feelings; of danger there was
none. He then spoke gladly of his intention to
rejoin them the moment he had led the advance
a few miles toward the Hudson, and immediately took his leave.
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By this time the signal for departure had
been given, and the head of the English column
was in motion. The sisters started at the sound,
and glancing their eyes around, they saw the
white uniforms of the French grenadiers, who
had already taken possession of the gates of
the fort. At that moment an enormous cloud
seemed to pass suddenly above their heads,
and, looking upward, they discovered that
they stood beneath the wide folds of the standard of France.
“Let us go,” said Cora; “this is no longer a fit
place for the children of an English officer.”
Alice clung to the arm of her sister, and together they left the parade, accompanied by the
moving throng that surrounded them.
As they passed the gates, the French officers, who had learned their rank, bowed often
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and low, forbearing, however, to intrude those
attentions which they saw, with peculiar tact,
might not be agreeable. As every vehicle and
each beast of burden was occupied by the sick
and wounded, Cora had decided to endure the
fatigues of a foot march, rather than interfere
with their comforts. Indeed, many a maimed
and feeble soldier was compelled to drag his
exhausted limbs in the rear of the columns, for
the want of the necessary means of conveyance
in that wilderness. The whole, however, was in
motion; the weak and wounded, groaning and
in suffering; their comrades silent and sullen;
and the women and children in terror, they
knew not of what.
As the confused and timid throng left the
protecting mounds of the fort, and issued on
the open plain, the whole scene was at once
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presented to their eyes. At a little distance on
the right, and somewhat in the rear, the French
army stood to their arms, Montcalm having
collected his parties, so soon as his guards had
possession of the works. They were attentive
but silent observers of the proceedings of the
vanquished, failing in none of the stipulated
military honors, and offering no taunt or insult,
in their success, to their less fortunate foes. Living masses of the English, to the amount, in the
whole, of near three thousand, were moving
slowly across the plain, toward the common
center, and gradually approached each other,
as they converged to the point of their march,
a vista cut through the lofty trees, where the
road to the Hudson entered the forest. Along
the sweeping borders of the woods hung a dark
cloud of savages, eyeing the passage of their
enemies, and hovering at a distance, like vul-
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tures who were only kept from swooping on
their prey by the presence and restraint of a
superior army. A few had straggled among
the conquered columns, where they stalked
in sullen discontent; attentive, though, as yet,
passive observers of the moving multitude.
The advance, with Heyward at its head, had
already reached the defile, and was slowly disappearing, when the attention of Cora was
drawn to a collection of stragglers by the
sounds of contention. A truant provincial was
paying the forfeit of his disobedience, by being plundered of those very effects which had
caused him to desert his place in the ranks. The
man was of powerful frame, and too avaricious
to part with his goods without a struggle. Individuals from either party interfered; the one
side to prevent and the other to aid in the rob-
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bery. Voices grew loud and angry, and a hundred savages appeared, as it were, by magic,
where a dozen only had been seen a minute
before. It was then that Cora saw the form
of Magua gliding among his countrymen, and
speaking with his fatal and artful eloquence.
The mass of women and children stopped, and
hovered together like alarmed and fluttering
birds. But the cupidity of the Indian was soon
gratified, and the different bodies again moved
slowly onward.
The savages now fell back, and seemed content to let their enemies advance without further molestation. But, as the female crowd approached them, the gaudy colors of a shawl
attracted the eyes of a wild and untutored
Huron. He advanced to seize it without the
least hesitation. The woman, more in terror
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than through love of the ornament, wrapped
her child in the coveted article, and folded both
more closely to her bosom. Cora was in the
act of speaking, with an intent to advise the
woman to abandon the trifle, when the savage
relinquished his hold of the shawl, and tore the
screaming infant from her arms. Abandoning
everything to the greedy grasp of those around
her, the mother darted, with distraction in her
mien, to reclaim her child. The Indian smiled
grimly, and extended one hand, in sign of a
willingness to exchange, while, with the other,
he flourished the babe over his head, holding
it by the feet as if to enhance the value of the
ransom.
“Here–here–there–all–any–everything!” exclaimed the breathless woman, tearing the
lighter articles of dress from her person with
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ill-directed and trembling fingers; “take all, but
give me my babe!”
The savage spurned the worthless rags, and
perceiving that the shawl had already become a
prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile
changing to a gleam of ferocity, he dashed the
head of the infant against a rock, and cast its
quivering remains to her very feet. For an instant the mother stood, like a statue of despair,
looking wildly down at the unseemly object,
which had so lately nestled in her bosom and
smiled in her face; and then she raised her
eyes and countenance toward heaven, as if calling on God to curse the perpetrator of the foul
deed. She was spared the sin of such a prayer
for, maddened at his disappointment, and excited at the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully
drove his tomahawk into her own brain. The
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mother sank under the blow, and fell, grasping
at her child, in death, with the same engrossing love that had caused her to cherish it when
living.
At that dangerous moment, Magua placed
his hands to his mouth, and raised the fatal and
appalling whoop. The scattered Indians started
at the well-known cry, as coursers bound at the
signal to quit the goal; and directly there arose
such a yell along the plain, and through the
arches of the wood, as seldom burst from human lips before. They who heard it listened
with a curdling horror at the heart, little inferior to that dread which may be expected to attend the blasts of the final summons.
More than two thousand raving savages
broke from the forest at the signal, and threw
themselves across the fatal plain with instinc-
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tive alacrity. We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded. Death was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting
aspects. Resistance only served to inflame the
murderers, who inflicted their furious blows
long after their victims were beyond the power
of their resentment. The flow of blood might be
likened to the outbreaking of a torrent; and as
the natives became heated and maddened by
the sight, many among them even kneeled to
the earth, and drank freely, exultingly, hellishly,
of the crimson tide.
The trained bodies of the troops threw themselves quickly into solid masses, endeavoring
to awe their assailants by the imposing appearance of a military front. The experiment
in some measure succeeded, though far too
many suffered their unloaded muskets to be
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torn from their hands, in the vain hope of appeasing the savages.
In such a scene none had leisure to note
the fleeting moments. It might have been
ten minutes (it seemed an age) that the sisters had stood riveted to one spot, horrorstricken and nearly helpless. When the first
blow was struck, their screaming companions
had pressed upon them in a body, rendering
flight impossible; and now that fear or death
had scattered most, if not all, from around
them, they saw no avenue open, but such as
conducted to the tomahawks of their foes. On
every side arose shrieks, groans, exhortations
and curses. At this moment, Alice caught a
glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly across the plain, in the direction of
the French army. He was, in truth, proceed-
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ing to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to
claim the tardy escort for which he had before
conditioned. Fifty glittering axes and barbed
spears were offered unheeded at his life, but
the savages respected his rank and calmness,
even in their fury. The dangerous weapons
were brushed aside by the still nervous arm of
the veteran, or fell of themselves, after menacing an act that it would seem no one had
courage to perform. Fortunately, the vindictive
Magua was searching for his victim in the very
band the veteran had just quitted.
“Father–father–we are here!” shrieked Alice,
as he passed, at no great distance, without appearing to heed them. “Come to us, father, or
we die!”
The cry was repeated, and in terms and tones
that might have melted a heart of stone, but it
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was unanswered. Once, indeed, the old man
appeared to catch the sound, for he paused and
listened; but Alice had dropped senseless on
the earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering in untiring tenderness over her lifeless
form. Munro shook his head in disappointment, and proceeded, bent on the high duty of
his station.
“Lady,” said Gamut, who, helpless and useless as he was, had not yet dreamed of deserting his trust, “it is the jubilee of the devils, and
this is not a meet place for Christians to tarry
in. Let us up and fly.”
“Go,” said Cora, still gazing at her unconscious sister; “save thyself. To me thou canst
not be of further use.”
David comprehended the unyielding character of her resolution, by the simple but expres-
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sive gesture that accompanied her words. He
gazed for a moment at the dusky forms that
were acting their hellish rites on every side of
him, and his tall person grew more erect while
his chest heaved, and every feature swelled,
and seemed to speak with the power of the feelings by which he was governed.
“If the Jewish boy might tame the great spirit
of Saul by the sound of his harp, and the words
of sacred song, it may not be amiss,” he said,
“to try the potency of music here.”
Then raising his voice to its highest tone, he
poured out a strain so powerful as to be heard
even amid the din of that bloody field. More
than one savage rushed toward them, thinking to rifle the unprotected sisters of their attire, and bear away their scalps; but when they
found this strange and unmoved figure riveted
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to his post, they paused to listen. Astonishment soon changed to admiration, and they
passed on to other and less courageous victims, openly expressing their satisfaction at the
firmness with which the white warrior sang his
death song. Encouraged and deluded by his
success, David exerted all his powers to extend
what he believed so holy an influence. The unwonted sounds caught the ears of a distant savage, who flew raging from group to group, like
one who, scorning to touch the vulgar herd,
hunted for some victim more worthy of his
renown. It was Magua, who uttered a yell of
pleasure when he beheld his ancient prisoners
again at his mercy.
“Come,” he said, laying his soiled hands on
the dress of Cora, “the wigwam of the Huron is
still open. Is it not better than this place?”
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“Away!” cried Cora, veiling her eyes from
his revolting aspect.
The Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up
his reeking hand, and answered: “It is red, but
it comes from white veins!”
“Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood,
upon thy soul; thy spirit has moved this scene.”
“Magua is a great chief!” returned the exulting savage, “will the dark-hair go to his tribe?”
“Never! strike if thou wilt, and complete thy
revenge.” He hesitated a moment, and then
catching the light and senseless form of Alice
in his arms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly
across the plain toward the woods.
“Hold!” shrieked Cora, following wildly on
his footsteps; “release the child! wretch! what
is’t you do?”
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But Magua was deaf to her voice; or, rather,
he knew his power, and was determined to
maintain it.
“Stay–lady–stay,” called Gamut, after the
unconscious Cora. “The holy charm is beginning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this horrid tumult stilled.”
Perceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, the faithful David followed the distracted sister, raising his voice again in sacred song, and sweeping the air to the measure, with his long arm, in diligent accompaniment. In this manner they traversed the plain,
through the flying, the wounded and the dead.
The fierce Huron was, at any time, sufficient
for himself and the victim that he bore; though
Cora would have fallen more than once under
the blows of her savage enemies, but for the ex-
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traordinary being who stalked in her rear, and
who now appeared to the astonished natives
gifted with the protecting spirit of madness.
Magua, who knew how to avoid the more
pressing dangers, and also to elude pursuit, entered the woods through a low ravine, where
he quickly found the Narragansetts, which
the travelers had abandoned so shortly before,
awaiting his appearance, in custody of a savage as fierce and malign in his expression as
himself. Laying Alice on one of the horses, he
made a sign to Cora to mount the other.
Notwithstanding the horror excited by the
presence of her captor, there was a present relief in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the plain, to which Cora could not be
altogether insensible. She took her seat, and
held forth her arms for her sister, with an air
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of entreaty and love that even the Huron could
not deny. Placing Alice, then, on the same animal with Cora, he seized the bridle, and commenced his route by plunging deeper into the
forest. David, perceiving that he was left alone,
utterly disregarded as a subject too worthless
even to destroy, threw his long limb across
the saddle of the beast they had deserted, and
made such progress in the pursuit as the difficulties of the path permitted.
They soon began to ascend; but as the motion had a tendency to revive the dormant faculties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too
much divided between the tenderest solicitude
in her behalf, and in listening to the cries which
were still too audible on the plain, to note
the direction in which they journeyed. When,
however, they gained the flattened surface of
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the mountain-top, and approached the eastern precipice, she recognized the spot to which
she had once before been led under the more
friendly auspices of the scout. Here Magua suffered them to dismount; and notwithstanding
their own captivity, the curiosity which seems
inseparable from horror, induced them to gaze
at the sickening sight below.
The cruel work was still unchecked. On
every side the captured were flying before
their relentless persecutors, while the armed
columns of the Christian king stood fast in an
apathy which has never been explained, and
which has left an immovable blot on the otherwise fair escutcheon of their leader. Nor was
the sword of death stayed until cupidity got the
mastery of revenge. Then, indeed, the shrieks
of the wounded, and the yells of their murder-
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ers grew less frequent, until, finally, the cries of
horror were lost to their ear, or were drowned
in the loud, long and piercing whoops of the
triumphant savages.
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“Why, anything;
An honorable murderer, if you
will;
For naught I did in hate, but all in
honor.”
–Othello
566
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THE BLOODY AND inhuman scene rather incidentally mentioned than described in the preceding chapter, is conspicuous in the pages of
colonial history by the merited title of “The
Massacre of William Henry.” It so far deepened the stain which a previous and very similar event had left upon the reputation of the
French commander that it was not entirely
erased by his early and glorious death. It is
now becoming obscured by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm died like a
hero on the plains of Abraham, have yet to
learn how much he was deficient in that moral
courage without which no man can be truly
great. Pages might yet be written to prove,
from this illustrious example, the defects of human excellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high courtesy, and chivalrous courage to lose their influence beneath
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the chilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who was great in all
the minor attributes of character, but who was
found wanting when it became necessary to
prove how much principle is superior to policy. But the task would exceed our prerogatives; and, as history, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis de
Saint Veran will be viewed by posterity only
as the gallant defender of his country, while
his cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego
and of the Horican will be forgotten. Deeply
regretting this weakness on the part of a sister
muse, we shall at once retire from her sacred
precincts, within the proper limits of our own
humble vocation.
The third day from the capture of the fort
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was drawing to a close, but the business of
the narrative must still detain the reader on
the shores of the “holy lake.” When last seen,
the environs of the works were filled with violence and uproar. They were now possessed
by stillness and death. The blood-stained conquerors had departed; and their camp, which
had so lately rung with the merry rejoicings
of a victorious army, lay a silent and deserted
city of huts. The fortress was a smoldering
ruin; charred rafters, fragments of exploded
artillery, and rent mason-work covering its
earthen mounds in confused disorder.
A frightful change had also occurred in the
season. The sun had hid its warmth behind
an impenetrable mass of vapor, and hundreds
of human forms, which had blackened beneath
the fierce heats of August, were stiffening in
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their deformity before the blasts of a premature November. The curling and spotless mists,
which had been seen sailing above the hills toward the north, were now returning in an interminable dusky sheet, that was urged along
by the fury of a tempest. The crowded mirror of the Horican was gone; and, in its place,
the green and angry waters lashed the shores,
as if indignantly casting back its impurities to
the polluted strand. Still the clear fountain retained a portion of its charmed influence, but it
reflected only the somber gloom that fell from
the impending heavens. That humid and congenial atmosphere which commonly adorned
the view, veiling its harshness, and softening
its asperities, had disappeared, the northern air
poured across the waste of water so harsh and
unmingled, that nothing was left to be conjectured by the eye, or fashioned by the fancy.
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The fiercer element had cropped the verdure
of the plain, which looked as though it were
scathed by the consuming lightning. But, here
and there, a dark green tuft rose in the midst
of the desolation; the earliest fruits of a soil
that had been fattened with human blood. The
whole landscape, which, seen by a favoring
light, and in a genial temperature, had been
found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured allegory of life, in which objects were arrayed in their harshest but truest colors, and
without the relief of any shadowing.
The solitary and arid blades of grass arose
from the passing gusts fearfully perceptible;
the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct
in their barrenness, and the eye even sought
relief, in vain, by attempting to pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its
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gaze by the dusky sheet of ragged and driving
vapor.
The wind blew unequally; sometimes
sweeping heavily along the ground, seeming
to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of
the dead, then rising in a shrill and mournful
whistling, it entered the forest with a rush
that filled the air with the leaves and branches
it scattered in its path. Amid the unnatural
shower, a few hungry ravens struggled with
the gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of
woods which stretched beneath them, passed,
than they gladly stopped, at random, to their
hideous banquet.
In short, it was a scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared as if all who had profanely entered it had been stricken, at a blow,
by the relentless arm of death. But the prohibi-
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tion had ceased; and for the first time since the
perpetrators of those foul deeds which had assisted to disfigure the scene were gone, living
human beings had now presumed to approach
the place.
About an hour before the setting of the sun,
on the day already mentioned, the forms of
five men might have been seen issuing from
the narrow vista of trees, where the path to
the Hudson entered the forest, and advancing in the direction of the ruined works. At
first their progress was slow and guarded, as
though they entered with reluctance amid the
horrors of the post, or dreaded the renewal of
its frightful incidents. A light figure preceded
the rest of the party, with the caution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to reconnoiter, and indicating by gestures, to his com-
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panions, the route he deemed it most prudent
to pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting
in every caution and foresight known to forest
warfare. One among them, he also was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched
the margin of the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign of danger. The remaining three were white, though
clad in vestments adapted, both in quality and
color, to their present hazardous pursuit–that
of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army in
the wilderness.
The effects produced by the appalling sights
that constantly arose in their path to the lake
shore, were as different as the characters of
the respective individuals who composed the
party. The youth in front threw serious but
furtive glances at the mangled victims, as he
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stepped lightly across the plain, afraid to exhibit his feelings, and yet too inexperienced to
quell entirely their sudden and powerful influence. His red associate, however, was superior to such a weakness. He passed the groups
of dead with a steadiness of purpose, and an
eye so calm, that nothing but long and inveterate practise could enable him to maintain. The
sensations produced in the minds of even the
white men were different, though uniformly
sorrowful. One, whose gray locks and furrowed lineaments, blending with a martial air
and tread, betrayed, in spite of the disguise of
a woodsman’s dress, a man long experienced
in scenes of war, was not ashamed to groan
aloud, whenever a spectacle of more than usual
horror came under his view. The young man
at his elbow shuddered, but seemed to suppress his feelings in tenderness to his compan-
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ion. Of them all, the straggler who brought
up the rear appeared alone to betray his real
thoughts, without fear of observation or dread
of consequences. He gazed at the most appalling sight with eyes and muscles that knew
not how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and deep as to denote how much he denounced the crime of his enemies.
The reader will perceive at once, in these
respective characters, the Mohicans, and their
white friend, the scout; together with Munro
and Heyward. It was, in truth, the father in
quest of his children, attended by the youth
who felt so deep a stake in their happiness, and
those brave and trusty foresters, who had already proved their skill and fidelity through
the trying scenes related.
When Uncas, who moved in front, had
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reached the center of the plain, he raised a cry
that drew his companions in a body to the spot.
The young warrior had halted over a group
of females who lay in a cluster, a confused
mass of dead. Notwithstanding the revolting horror of the exhibition, Munro and Heyward flew toward the festering heap, endeavoring, with a love that no unseemliness could
extinguish, to discover whether any vestiges of
those they sought were to be seen among the
tattered and many-colored garments. The father and the lover found instant relief in the
search; though each was condemned again to
experience the misery of an uncertainty that
was hardly less insupportable than the most revolting truth. They were standing, silent and
thoughtful, around the melancholy pile, when
the scout approached. Eyeing the sad spectacle
with an angry countenance, the sturdy woods-
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man, for the first time since his entering the
plain, spoke intelligibly and aloud:
“I have been on many a shocking field, and
have followed a trail of blood for weary miles,”
he said, “but never have I found the hand of
the devil so plain as it is here to be seen! Revenge is an Indian feeling, and all who know
me know that there is no cross in my veins; but
this much will I say–here, in the face of heaven,
and with the power of the Lord so manifest
in this howling wilderness–that should these
Frenchers ever trust themselves again within
the range of a ragged bullet, there is one rifle
which shall play its part so long as flint will
fire or powder burn! I leave the tomahawk and
knife to such as have a natural gift to use them.
What say you, Chingachgook,” he added, in
Delaware; “shall the Hurons boast of this to
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their women when the deep snows come?”
A gleam of resentment flashed across the
dark lineaments of the Mohican chief; he loosened his knife in his sheath; and then turning
calmly from the sight, his countenance settled
into a repose as deep as if he knew the instigation of passion.
“Montcalm! Montcalm!” continued the
deeply resentful and less self-restrained scout;
“they say a time must come when all the deeds
done in the flesh will be seen at a single look;
and that by eyes cleared from mortal infirmities. Woe betide the wretch who is born to
behold this plain, with the judgment hanging
about his soul! Ha–as I am a man of white
blood, yonder lies a red-skin, without the hair
of his head where nature rooted it! Look to
him, Delaware; it may be one of your missing
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people; and he should have burial like a stout
warrior. I see it in your eye, Sagamore; a Huron
pays for this, afore the fall winds have blown
away the scent of the blood!”
Chingachgook approached the mutilated
form, and, turning it over, he found the distinguishing marks of one of those six allied tribes,
or nations, as they were called, who, while they
fought in the English ranks, were so deadly
hostile to his own people. Spurning the loathsome object with his foot, he turned from it
with the same indifference he would have quitted a brute carcass. The scout comprehended
the action, and very deliberately pursued his
own way, continuing, however, his denunciations against the French commander in the
same resentful strain.
“Nothing but vast wisdom and unlimited
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power should dare to sweep off men in multitudes,” he added; “for it is only the one that
can know the necessity of the judgment; and
what is there, short of the other, that can replace
the creatures of the Lord? I hold it a sin to kill
the second buck afore the first is eaten, unless a
march in front, or an ambushment, be contemplated. It is a different matter with a few warriors in open and rugged fight, for ‘tis their gift
to die with the rifle or the tomahawk in hand;
according as their natures may happen to be,
white or red. Uncas, come this way, lad, and let
the ravens settle upon the Mingo. I know, from
often seeing it, that they have a craving for the
flesh of an Oneida; and it is as well to let the
bird follow the gift of its natural appetite.”
“Hugh!” exclaimed the young Mohican, rising on the extremities of his feet, and gazing
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intently in his front, frightening the ravens to
some other prey by the sound and the action.
“What is it, boy?” whispered the scout, lowering his tall form into a crouching attitude,
like a panther about to take his leap; “God send
it be a tardy Frencher, skulking for plunder. I
do believe ‘killdeer’ would take an uncommon
range today!”
Uncas, without making any reply, bounded
away from the spot, and in the next instant
he was seen tearing from a bush, and waving in triumph, a fragment of the green ridingveil of Cora. The movement, the exhibition,
and the cry which again burst from the lips of
the young Mohican, instantly drew the whole
party about him.
“My child!” said Munro, speaking quickly
and wildly; “give me my child!”
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“Uncas will try,” was the short and touching
answer.
The simple but meaning assurance was lost
on the father, who seized the piece of gauze,
and crushed it in his hand, while his eyes
roamed fearfully among the bushes, as if he
equally dreaded and hoped for the secrets they
might reveal.
“Here are no dead,” said Heyward; “the
storm seems not to have passed this way.”
“That’s manifest; and clearer than the heavens above our heads,” returned the undisturbed scout; “but either she, or they that have
robbed her, have passed the bush; for I remember the rag she wore to hide a face that all
did love to look upon. Uncas, you are right;
the dark-hair has been here, and she has fled
like a frightened fawn, to the wood; none who
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could fly would remain to be murdered. Let us
search for the marks she left; for, to Indian eyes,
I sometimes think a humming-bird leaves his
trail in the air.”
The young Mohican darted away at the suggestion, and the scout had hardly done speaking, before the former raised a cry of success
from the margin of the forest. On reaching the
spot, the anxious party perceived another portion of the veil fluttering on the lower branch
of a beech.
“Softly, softly,” said the scout, extending his
long rifle in front of the eager Heyward; “we
now know our work, but the beauty of the
trail must not be deformed. A step too soon
may give us hours of trouble. We have them,
though; that much is beyond denial.”
“Bless ye, bless ye, worthy man!” exclaimed
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Munro; “whither then, have they fled, and
where are my babes?”
“The path they have taken depends on many
chances. If they have gone alone, they are quite
as likely to move in a circle as straight, and they
may be within a dozen miles of us; but if the
Hurons, or any of the French Indians, have laid
hands on them, ‘tis probably they are now near
the borders of the Canadas. But what matters
that?” continued the deliberate scout, observing the powerful anxiety and disappointment
the listeners exhibited; “here are the Mohicans
and I on one end of the trail, and, rely on it, we
find the other, though they should be a hundred leagues asunder! Gently, gently, Uncas,
you are as impatient as a man in the settlements; you forget that light feet leave but faint
marks!”
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“Hugh!” exclaimed Chingachgook, who had
been occupied in examining an opening that
had been evidently made through the low underbrush which skirted the forest; and who
now stood erect, as he pointed downward, in
the attitude and with the air of a man who beheld a disgusting serpent.
“Here is the palpable impression of the footstep of a man,” cried Heyward, bending over
the indicated spot; “he has trod in the margin
of this pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken.
They are captives.”
“Better so than left to starve in the wilderness,” returned the scout; “and they will leave
a wider trail. I would wager fifty beaver skins
against as many flints, that the Mohicans and I
enter their wigwams within the month! Stoop
to it, Uncas, and try what you can make of
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the moccasin; for moccasin it plainly is, and no
shoe.”
The young Mohican bent over the track, and
removing the scattered leaves from around the
place, he examined it with much of that sort
of scrutiny that a money dealer, in these days
of pecuniary doubts, would bestow on a suspected due-bill. At length he arose from his
knees, satisfied with the result of the examination.
“Well, boy,” demanded the attentive scout;
“what does it say? Can you make anything of
the tell-tale?”
“Le Renard Subtil!”
“Ha! that rampaging devil again! there will
never be an end of his loping till ‘killdeer’ has
said a friendly word to him.”
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Heyward reluctantly admitted the truth of
this intelligence, and now expressed rather his
hopes than his doubts by saying:
“One moccasin is so much like another, it is
probable there is some mistake.”
“One moccasin like another! you may as
well say that one foot is like another; though
we all know that some are long, and others
short; some broad and others narrow; some
with high, and some with low insteps; some
intoed, and some out. One moccasin is no
more like another than one book is like another:
though they who can read in one are seldom
able to tell the marks of the other. Which is
all ordered for the best, giving to every man
his natural advantages. Let me get down to it,
Uncas; neither book nor moccasin is the worse
for having two opinions, instead of one.” The
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scout stooped to the task, and instantly added:
“You are right, boy; here is the patch we saw
so often in the other chase. And the fellow will
drink when he can get an opportunity; your
drinking Indian always learns to walk with a
wider toe than the natural savage, it being the
gift of a drunkard to straddle, whether of white
or red skin. ‘Tis just the length and breadth,
too! look at it, Sagamore; you measured the
prints more than once, when we hunted the
varmints from Glenn’s to the health springs.”
Chingachgook complied; and after finishing his short examination, he arose, and with
a quiet demeanor, he merely pronounced the
word:
“Magua!”
“Ay, ‘tis a settled thing; here, then, have
passed the dark-hair and Magua.”
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“And not Alice?” demanded Heyward.
“Of her we have not yet seen the signs,” returned the scout, looking closely around at the
trees, the bushes and the ground. “What have
we there? Uncas, bring hither the thing you see
dangling from yonder thorn-bush.”
When the Indian had complied, the scout received the prize, and holding it on high, he
laughed in his silent but heartfelt manner.
“‘Tis the tooting we’pon of the singer! now
we shall have a trail a priest might travel,” he
said. “Uncas, look for the marks of a shoe that
is long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering human flesh. I begin to have some hopes
of the fellow, since he has given up squalling to
follow some better trade.”
“At least he has been faithful to his trust,”
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said Heyward. “And Cora and Alice are not
without a friend.”
“Yes,” said Hawkeye, dropping his rifle, and
leaning on it with an air of visible contempt,
“he will do their singing. Can he slay a buck
for their dinner; journey by the moss on the
beeches, or cut the throat of a Huron? If not,
the first catbird18 he meets is the cleverer of
the two. Well, boy, any signs of such a foundation?”
18 The powers of the American mocking-bird are generally known. But the true mocking-bird is not found
so far north as the state of New York, where it has,
however, two substitutes of inferior excellence, the catbird, so often named by the scout, and the bird vulgarly
called ground- thresher. Either of these last two birds is
superior to the nightingale or the lark, though, in general, the American birds are less musical than those of
Europe.
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“Here is something like the footstep of one
who has worn a shoe; can it be that of our
friend?”
“Touch the leaves lightly or you’ll disconsart
the formation. That! that is the print of a foot,
but ‘tis the dark-hair’s; and small it is, too, for
one of such a noble height and grand appearance. The singer would cover it with his heel.”
“Where! let me look on the footsteps of my
child,” said Munro, shoving the bushes aside,
and bending fondly over the nearly obliterated
impression. Though the tread which had left
the mark had been light and rapid, it was still
plainly visible. The aged soldier examined it
with eyes that grew dim as he gazed; nor did
he rise from this stooping posture until Heyward saw that he had watered the trace of his
daughter’s passage with a scalding tear. Will-
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ing to divert a distress which threatened each
moment to break through the restraint of appearances, by giving the veteran something to
do, the young man said to the scout:
“As we now possess these infallible signs, let
us commence our march. A moment, at such a
time, will appear an age to the captives.”
“It is not the swiftest leaping deer that gives
the longest chase,” returned Hawkeye, without
moving his eyes from the different marks that
had come under his view; “we know that the
rampaging Huron has passed, and the darkhair, and the singer, but where is she of the yellow locks and blue eyes? Though little, and far
from being as bold as her sister, she is fair to
the view, and pleasant in discourse. Has she no
friend, that none care for her?”
“God forbid she should ever want hundreds!
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Are we not now in her pursuit? For one, I will
never cease the search till she be found.”
“In that case we may have to journey by different paths; for here she has not passed, light
and little as her footsteps would be.”
Heyward drew back, all his ardor to proceed
seeming to vanish on the instant. Without attending to this sudden change in the other’s
humor, the scout after musing a moment continued:
“There is no woman in this wilderness could
leave such a print as that, but the dark-hair or
her sister. We know that the first has been here,
but where are the signs of the other? Let us
push deeper on the trail, and if nothing offers,
we must go back to the plain and strike another
scent. Move on, Uncas, and keep your eyes on
the dried leaves. I will watch the bushes, while
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your father shall run with a low nose to the
ground. Move on, friends; the sun is getting
behind the hills.”
“Is there nothing that I can do?” demanded
the anxious Heyward.
“You?” repeated the scout, who, with his red
friends, was already advancing in the order he
had prescribed; “yes, you can keep in our rear
and be careful not to cross the trail.”
Before they had proceeded many rods, the
Indians stopped, and appeared to gaze at some
signs on the earth with more than their usual
keenness. Both father and son spoke quick and
loud, now looking at the object of their mutual admiration, and now regarding each other
with the most unequivocal pleasure.
“They have found the little foot!” exclaimed
the scout, moving forward, without attend-
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ing further to his own portion of the duty.
“What have we here? An ambushment has
been planted in the spot! No, by the truest rifle
on the frontiers, here have been them one-sided
horses again! Now the whole secret is out, and
all is plain as the north star at midnight. Yes,
here they have mounted. There the beasts have
been bound to a sapling, in waiting; and yonder runs the broad path away to the north, in
full sweep for the Canadas.”
“But still there are no signs of Alice, of the
younger Miss Munro,” said Duncan.
“Unless the shining bauble Uncas has just
lifted from the ground should prove one. Pass
it this way, lad, that we may look at it.”
Heyward instantly knew it for a trinket that
Alice was fond of wearing, and which he recollected, with the tenacious memory of a lover,
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to have seen, on the fatal morning of the massacre, dangling from the fair neck of his mistress. He seized the highly prized jewel; and
as he proclaimed the fact, it vanished from
the eyes of the wondering scout, who in vain
looked for it on the ground, long after it was
warmly pressed against the beating heart of
Duncan.
“Pshaw!” said the disappointed Hawkeye,
ceasing to rake the leaves with the breech of
his rifle; “‘tis a certain sign of age, when the
sight begins to weaken. Such a glittering gewgaw, and not to be seen! Well, well, I can
squint along a clouded barrel yet, and that is
enough to settle all disputes between me and
the Mingoes. I should like to find the thing,
too, if it were only to carry it to the right owner,
and that would be bringing the two ends of
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what I call a long trail together, for by this time
the broad St. Lawrence, or perhaps, the Great
Lakes themselves, are between us.”
“So much the more reason why we should
not delay our march,” returned Heyward; “let
us proceed.”
“Young blood and hot blood, they say, are
much the same thing. We are not about to start
on a squirrel hunt, or to drive a deer into the
Horican, but to outlie for days and nights, and
to stretch across a wilderness where the feet of
men seldom go, and where no bookish knowledge would carry you through harmless. An
Indian never starts on such an expedition without smoking over his council-fire; and, though
a man of white blood, I honor their customs in
this particular, seeing that they are deliberate
and wise. We will, therefore, go back, and light
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our fire to-night in the ruins of the old fort, and
in the morning we shall be fresh, and ready to
undertake our work like men, and not like babbling women or eager boys.”
Heyward saw, by the manner of the scout,
that altercation would be useless. Munro had
again sunk into that sort of apathy which had
beset him since his late overwhelming misfortunes, and from which he was apparently to
be roused only by some new and powerful
excitement. Making a merit of necessity, the
young man took the veteran by the arm, and
followed in the footsteps of the Indians and the
scout, who had already begun to retrace the
path which conducted them to the plain.
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“Salar.–Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh;
what’s that good for? Shy.–To bait
fish withal; if it will feed nothing
else, it will feed my revenge.”
–Merchant of Venice
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THE SHADES OF evening had come to increase the dreariness of the place, when the
party entered the ruins of William Henry. The
scout and his companions immediately made
their preparations to pass the night there; but
with an earnestness and sobriety of demeanor
that betrayed how much the unusual horrors they had just witnessed worked on even
their practised feelings. A few fragments of
rafters were reared against a blackened wall;
and when Uncas had covered them slightly
with brush, the temporary accommodations
were deemed sufficient. The young Indian
pointed toward his rude hut when his labor
was ended; and Heyward, who understood the
meaning of the silent gestures, gently urged
Munro to enter. Leaving the bereaved old
man alone with his sorrows, Duncan immediately returned into the open air, too much ex-
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cited himself to seek the repose he had recommended to his veteran friend.
While Hawkeye and the Indians lighted
their fire and took their evening’s repast, a frugal meal of dried bear’s meat, the young man
paid a visit to that curtain of the dilapidated
fort which looked out on the sheet of the Horican. The wind had fallen, and the waves
were already rolling on the sandy beach beneath him, in a more regular and tempered succession. The clouds, as if tired of their furious chase, were breaking asunder; the heavier volumes, gathering in black masses about
the horizon, while the lighter scud still hurried
above the water, or eddied among the tops of
the mountains, like broken flights of birds, hovering around their roosts. Here and there, a red
and fiery star struggled through the drifting
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vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of brightness
to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within the
bosom of the encircling hills, an impenetrable
darkness had already settled; and the plain lay
like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without
omen or whisper to disturb the slumbers of its
numerous and hapless tenants.
Of this scene, so chillingly in accordance
with the past, Duncan stood for many minutes a rapt observer. His eyes wandered from
the bosom of the mound, where the foresters
were seated around their glimmering fire, to
the fainter light which still lingered in the skies,
and then rested long and anxiously on the embodied gloom, which lay like a dreary void
on that side of him where the dead reposed.
He soon fancied that inexplicable sounds arose
from the place, though so indistinct and stolen,
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as to render not only their nature but even their
existence uncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned toward the water,
and strove to divert his attention to the mimic
stars that dimly glimmered on its moving surface. Still, his too-conscious ears performed
their ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of
some lurking danger. At length, a swift trampling seemed, quite audibly, to rush athwart
the darkness. Unable any longer to quiet his
uneasiness, Duncan spoke in a low voice to
the scout, requesting him to ascend the mound
to the place where he stood. Hawkeye threw
his rifle across an arm and complied, but with
an air so unmoved and calm, as to prove how
much he counted on the security of their position.
“Listen!”
said Duncan, when the other
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placed himself deliberately at his elbow; “there
are suppressed noises on the plain which may
show Montcalm has not yet entirely deserted
his conquest.”
“Then ears are better than eyes,” said the
undisturbed scout, who, having just deposited
a portion of a bear between his grinders, spoke
thick and slow, like one whose mouth was doubly occupied. “I myself saw him caged in Ty,
with all his host; for your Frenchers, when
they have done a clever thing, like to get back,
and have a dance, or a merry-making, with the
women over their success.”
“I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in
war, and plunder may keep a Huron here after
his tribe has departed. It would be well to extinguish the fire, and have a watch–listen! you
hear the noise I mean!”
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“An Indian more rarely lurks about the
graves. Though ready to slay, and not over regardful of the means, he is commonly content
with the scalp, unless when blood is hot, and
temper up; but after spirit is once fairly gone,
he forgets his enmity, and is willing to let the
dead find their natural rest. Speaking of spirits, major, are you of opinion that the heaven of
a red-skin and of us whites will be of one and
the same?”
“No doubt–no doubt. I thought I heard it
again! or was it the rustling of the leaves in the
top of the beech?”
“For my own part,” continued Hawkeye,
turning his face for a moment in the direction
indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and
careless manner, “I believe that paradise is ordained for happiness; and that men will be in-
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dulged in it according to their dispositions and
gifts. I, therefore, judge that a red-skin is not far
from the truth when he believes he is to find
them glorious hunting grounds of which his
traditions tell; nor, for that matter, do I think it
would be any disparagement to a man without
a cross to pass his time–”
“You hear it again?” interrupted Duncan.
“Ay, ay; when food is scarce, and when food
is plenty, a wolf grows bold,” said the unmoved scout. “There would be picking, too,
among the skins of the devils, if there was light
and time for the sport. But, concerning the life
that is to come, major; I have heard preachers
say, in the settlements, that heaven was a place
of rest. Now, men’s minds differ as to their
ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it
with reverence to the ordering of Providence, it
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would be no great indulgence to be kept shut
up in those mansions of which they preach,
having a natural longing for motion and the
chase.”
Duncan, who was now made to understand
the nature of the noise he had heard, answered,
with more attention to the subject which the
humor of the scout had chosen for discussion,
by saying:
“It is difficult to account for the feelings that
may attend the last great change.”
“It would be a change, indeed, for a man
who has passed his days in the open air,” returned the single-minded scout; “and who has
so often broken his fast on the head waters
of the Hudson, to sleep within sound of the
roaring Mohawk. But it is a comfort to know
we serve a merciful Master, though we do it
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each after his fashion, and with great tracts of
wilderness atween us–what goes there?”
“Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have
mentioned?”
Hawkeye slowly shook his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him to a spot to
which the glare from the fire did not extend.
When he had taken this precaution, the scout
placed himself in an attitude of intense attention and listened long and keenly for a repetition of the low sound that had so unexpectedly
startled him. His vigilance, however, seemed
exercised in vain; for after a fruitless pause, he
whispered to Duncan:
“We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has
Indian senses, and he may hear what is hid
from us; for, being a white-skin, I will not deny
my nature.”
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The young Mohican, who was conversing in
a low voice with his father, started as he heard
the moaning of an owl, and, springing on his
feet, he looked toward the black mounds, as
if seeking the place whence the sounds proceeded. The scout repeated the call, and in a
few moments, Duncan saw the figure of Uncas
stealing cautiously along the rampart, to the
spot where they stood.
Hawkeye explained his wishes in a very few
words, which were spoken in the Delaware
tongue. So soon as Uncas was in possession
of the reason why he was summoned, he threw
himself flat on the turf; where, to the eyes of
Duncan, he appeared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at the immovable attitude of
the young warrior, and curious to observe the
manner in which he employed his faculties to
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obtain the desired information, Heyward advanced a few steps, and bent over the dark object on which he had kept his eye riveted. Then
it was he discovered that the form of Uncas
vanished, and that he beheld only the dark outline of an inequality in the embankment.
“What has become of the Mohican?” he demanded of the scout, stepping back in amazement; “it was here that I saw him fall, and
could have sworn that here he yet remained.”
“Hist! speak lower; for we know not what
ears are open, and the Mingoes are a quickwitted breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the
plain, and the Maquas, if any such are about
us, will find their equal.”
“You think that Montcalm has not called off
all his Indians? Let us give the alarm to our
companions, that we may stand to our arms.
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Here are five of us, who are not unused to meet
an enemy.”
“Not a word to either, as you value your life.
Look at the Sagamore, how like a grand Indian
chief he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers
out in the darkness, they will never discover,
by his countenance, that we suspect danger at
hand.”
“But they may discover him, and it will
prove his death. His person can be too plainly
seen by the light of that fire, and he will become
the first and most certain victim.”
“It is undeniable that now you speak the
truth,” returned the scout, betraying more anxiety than was usual; “yet what can be done? A
single suspicious look might bring on an attack
before we are ready to receive it. He knows, by
the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a
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scent; I will tell him that we are on the trail of
the Mingoes; his Indian nature will teach him
how to act.”
The scout applied his fingers to his mouth,
and raised a low hissing sound, that caused
Duncan at first to start aside, believing that he
heard a serpent. The head of Chingachgook
was resting on a hand, as he sat musing by himself but the moment he had heard the warning
of the animal whose name he bore, he arose to
an upright position, and his dark eyes glanced
swiftly and keenly on every side of him. With
his sudden and, perhaps, involuntary movement, every appearance of surprise or alarm
ended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently unnoticed, within reach of his hand. The
tomahawk that he had loosened in his belt for
the sake of ease, was even suffered to fall from
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its usual situation to the ground, and his form
seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves
and sinews were suffered to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly resuming his former
position, though with a change of hands, as if
the movement had been made merely to relieve
the limb, the native awaited the result with a
calmness and fortitude that none but an Indian
warrior would have known how to exercise.
But Heyward saw that while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief appeared to
slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head
was turned a little to one side, as if to assist
the organs of hearing, and that his quick and
rapid glances ran incessantly over every object
within the power of his vision.
“See the noble fellow!” whispered Hawkeye,
pressing the arm of Heyward; “he knows that a
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look or a motion might disconsart our schemes,
and put us at the mercy of them imps–”
He was interrupted by the flash and report
of a rifle. The air was filled with sparks of fire,
around that spot where the eyes of Heyward
were still fastened, with admiration and wonder. A second look told him that Chingachgook had disappeared in the confusion. In the
meantime, the scout had thrown forward his rifle, like one prepared for service, and awaited
impatiently the moment when an enemy might
rise to view. But with the solitary and fruitless
attempt made on the life of Chingachgook, the
attack appeared to have terminated. Once or
twice the listeners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of bushes, as bodies
of some unknown description rushed through
them; nor was it long before Hawkeye pointed
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out the “scampering of the wolves,” as they
fled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper domains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard
in the water, and it was immediately followed
by the report of another rifle.
“There goes Uncas!” said the scout; “the boy
bears a smart piece! I know its crack, as well as
a father knows the language of his child, for I
carried the gun myself until a better offered.”
“What can this mean?” demanded Duncan, “we are watched, and, as it would seem,
marked for destruction.”
“Yonder scattered brand can witness that no
good was intended, and this Indian will testify that no harm has been done,” returned the
scout, dropping his rifle across his arm again,
and following Chingachgook, who just then
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reappeared within the circle of light, into the
bosom of the work. “How is it, Sagamore? Are
the Mingoes upon us in earnest, or is it only one
of those reptiles who hang upon the skirts of a
war-party, to scalp the dead, go in, and make
their boast among the squaws of the valiant
deeds done on the pale faces?”
Chingachgook very quietly resumed his
seat; nor did he make any reply, until after he
had examined the firebrand which had been
struck by the bullet that had nearly proved fatal to himself. After which he was content to
reply, holding a single finger up to view, with
the English monosyllable:
“One.”
“I thought as much,” returned Hawkeye,
seating himself; “and as he had got the cover
of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is
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more than probable the knave will sing his lies
about some great ambushment, in which he
was outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and
a white hunter–for the officers can be considered as little better than idlers in such a scrimmage. Well, let him–let him. There are always some honest men in every nation, though
heaven knows, too, that they are scarce among
the Maquas, to look down an upstart when
he brags ag’in the face of reason. The varlet
sent his lead within whistle of your ears, Sagamore.”
Chingachgook turned a calm and incurious
eye toward the place where the ball had struck,
and then resumed his former attitude, with a
composure that could not be disturbed by so
trifling an incident. Just then Uncas glided
into the circle, and seated himself at the fire,
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with the same appearance of indifference as
was maintained by his father.
Of these several moments Heyward was a
deeply interested and wondering observer. It
appeared to him as though the foresters had
some secret means of intelligence, which had
escaped the vigilance of his own faculties. In
place of that eager and garrulous narration
with which a white youth would have endeavored to communicate, and perhaps exaggerate,
that which had passed out in the darkness of
the plain, the young warrior was seemingly
content to let his deeds speak for themselves. It
was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an Indian to boast of his exploits; and
it is probably that, had Heyward neglected to
inquire, not another syllable would, just then,
have been uttered on the subject.
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“What has become of our enemy, Uncas?”
demanded Duncan; “we heard your rifle, and
hoped you had not fired in vain.”
The young chief removed a fold of his hunting skirt, and quietly exposed the fatal tuft of
hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory.
Chingachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and
considered it for a moment with deep attention. Then dropping it, with disgust depicted
in his strong features, he ejaculated:
“Oneida!”
“Oneida!” repeated the scout, who was fast
losing his interest in the scene, in an apathy
nearly assimilated to that of his red associates,
but who now advanced in uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody badge. “By the Lord,
if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we
shall by flanked by devils on every side of us!
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Now, to white eyes there is no difference between this bit of skin and that of any other Indian, and yet the Sagamore declares it came
from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he even names
the tribe of the poor devil, with as much ease
as if the scalp was the leaf of a book, and each
hair a letter. What right have Christian whites
to boast of their learning, when a savage can
read a language that would prove too much for
the wisest of them all! What say you, lad, of
what people was the knave?”
Uncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout,
and answered, in his soft voice:
“Oneida.”
“Oneida, again! when one Indian makes
a declaration it is commonly true; but when
he is supported by his people, set it down as
gospel!”
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“The poor fellow has mistaken us for
French,” said Heyward; “or he would not have
attempted the life of a friend.”
“He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a
Huron! You would be as likely to mistake
the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for
the scarlet jackets of the Royal Americans,” returned the scout. “No, no, the sarpent knew
his errand; nor was there any great mistake in
the matter, for there is but little love atween a
Delaware and a Mingo, let their tribes go out
to fight for whom they may, in a white quarrel.
For that matter, though the Oneidas do serve
his sacred majesty, who is my sovereign lord
and master, I should not have deliberated long
about letting off ‘killdeer’ at the imp myself,
had luck thrown him in my way.”
“That would have been an abuse of our
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treaties, and unworthy of your character.”
“When a man consort much with a people,”
continued Hawkeye, “if they were honest and
he no knave, love will grow up atwixt them.
It is true that white cunning has managed to
throw the tribes into great confusion, as respects friends and enemies; so that the Hurons
and the Oneidas, who speak the same tongue,
or what may be called the same, take each
other’s scalps, and the Delawares are divided
among themselves; a few hanging about their
great council-fire on their own river, and fighting on the same side with the Mingoes while
the greater part are in the Canadas, out of natural enmity to the Maquas–thus throwing everything into disorder, and destroying all the
harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur’ is not
likely to alter with every shift of policy; so that
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the love atwixt a Mohican and a Mingo is much
like the regard between a white man and a sarpent.”
“I regret to hear it; for I had believed those
natives who dwelt within our boundaries had
found us too just and liberal, not to identify
themselves fully with our quarrels.”
“Why, I believe it is natur’ to give a preference to one’s own quarrels before those of
strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice;
and, therefore, I will not say I hate a Mingo, for
that may be unsuitable to my color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been
owing to the night that ‘killdeer’ had no hand
in the death of this skulking Oneida.”
Then, as if satisfied with the force of his
own reasons, whatever might be their effect on
the opinions of the other disputant, the hon-
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est but implacable woodsman turned from the
fire, content to let the controversy slumber.
Heyward withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy
and too little accustomed to the warfare of the
woods to remain at ease under the possibility of such insidious attacks. Not so, however,
with the scout and the Mohicans. Those acute
and long-practised senses, whose powers so often exceed the limits of all ordinary credulity,
after having detected the danger, had enabled
them to ascertain its magnitude and duration.
Not one of the three appeared in the least to
doubt their perfect security, as was indicated
by the preparations that were soon made to sit
in council over their future proceedings.
The confusion of nations, and even of tribes,
to which Hawkeye alluded, existed at that period in the fullest force. The great tie of lan-
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guage, and, of course, of a common origin,
was severed in many places; and it was one
of its consequences, that the Delaware and
the Mingo (as the people of the Six Nations
were called) were found fighting in the same
ranks, while the latter sought the scalp of the
Huron, though believed to be the root of his
own stock. The Delawares were even divided
among themselves. Though love for the soil
which had belonged to his ancestors kept the
Sagamore of the Mohicans with a small band
of followers who were serving at Edward, under the banners of the English king, by far
the largest portion of his nation were known
to be in the field as allies of Montcalm. The
reader probably knows, if enough has not already been gleaned form this narrative, that the
Delaware, or Lenape, claimed to be the progenitors of that numerous people, who once were
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masters of most of the eastern and northern
states of America, of whom the community of
the Mohicans was an ancient and highly honored member.
It was, of course, with a perfect understanding of the minute and intricate interests which
had armed friend against friend, and brought
natural enemies to combat by each other’s side,
that the scout and his companions now disposed themselves to deliberate on the measures that were to govern their future movements, amid so many jarring and savage races
of men. Duncan knew enough of Indian customs to understand the reason that the fire was
replenished, and why the warriors, not excepting Hawkeye, took their seats within the curl of
its smoke with so much gravity and decorum.
Placing himself at an angle of the works, where
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he might be a spectator of the scene without, he
awaited the result with as much patience as he
could summon.
After a short and impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe whose bowl was curiously carved in one of the soft stones of the
country, and whose stem was a tube of wood,
and commenced smoking. When he had inhaled enough of the fragrance of the soothing
weed, he passed the instrument into the hands
of the scout. In this manner the pipe had made
its rounds three several times, amid the most
profound silence, before either of the party
opened his lips. Then the Sagamore, as the oldest and highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words, proposed the subject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and Chingachgook rejoined, when the other objected to
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his opinions. But the youthful Uncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawkeye, in complaisance, demanded his opinion.
Heyward gathered from the manners of the
different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a disputed question, while
the white man maintained the other. The contest gradually grew warmer, until it was quite
evident the feelings of the speakers began to be
somewhat enlisted in the debate.
Notwithstanding the increasing warmth of
the amicable contest, the most decorous Christian assembly, not even excepting those in
which its reverend ministers are collected,
might have learned a wholesome lesson of
moderation from the forbearance and courtesy
of the disputants. The words of Uncas were received with the same deep attention as those
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which fell from the maturer wisdom of his father; and so far from manifesting any impatience, neither spoke in reply, until a few moments of silent meditation were, seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had already
been said.
The language of the Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and natural that
Heyward had but little difficulty in following
the thread of their argument. On the other
hand, the scout was obscure; because from
the lingering pride of color, he rather affected
the cold and artificial manner which characterizes all classes of Anglo-Americans when unexcited. By the frequency with which the Indians described the marks of a forest trial, it was
evident they urged a pursuit by land, while
the repeated sweep of Hawkeye’s arm toward
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the Horican denoted that he was for a passage
across its waters.
The latter was to every appearance fast losing ground, and the point was about to be decided against him, when he arose to his feet,
and shaking off his apathy, he suddenly assumed the manner of an Indian, and adopted
all the arts of native eloquence. Elevating an
arm, he pointed out the track of the sun, repeating the gesture for every day that was necessary to accomplish their objects. Then he delineated a long and painful path, amid rocks
and water-courses. The age and weakness of
the slumbering and unconscious Munro were
indicated by signs too palpable to be mistaken.
Duncan perceived that even his own powers
were spoken lightly of, as the scout extended
his palm, and mentioned him by the appella-
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tion of the “Open Hand”–a name his liberality
had purchased of all the friendly tribes. Then
came a representation of the light and graceful
movements of a canoe, set in forcible contrast
to the tottering steps of one enfeebled and tired.
He concluded by pointing to the scalp of the
Oneida, and apparently urging the necessity of
their departing speedily, and in a manner that
should leave no trail.
The Mohicans listened gravely, and with
countenances that reflected the sentiments of
the speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its
influence, and toward the close of Hawkeye’s
speech, his sentences were accompanied by the
customary exclamation of commendation. In
short, Uncas and his father became converts
to his way of thinking, abandoning their own
previously expressed opinions with a liberality
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and candor that, had they been the representatives of some great and civilized people, would
have infallibly worked their political ruin, by
destroying forever their reputation for consistency.
The instant the matter in discussion was decided, the debate, and everything connected
with it, except the result appeared to be forgotten. Hawkeye, without looking round to read
his triumph in applauding eyes, very composedly stretched his tall frame before the dying
embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.
Left now in a measure to themselves, the
Mohicans, whose time had been so much devoted to the interests of others, seized the moment to devote some attention to themselves.
Casting off at once the grave and austere demeanor of an Indian chief, Chingachgook com-
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menced speaking to his son in the soft and
playful tones of affection. Uncas gladly met the
familiar air of his father; and before the hard
breathing of the scout announced that he slept,
a complete change was effected in the manner
of his two associates.
It is impossible to describe the music of
their language, while thus engaged in laughter and endearments, in such a way as to render it intelligible to those whose ears have
never listened to its melody. The compass of
their voices, particularly that of the youth, was
wonderful–extending from the deepest bass to
tones that were even feminine in softness. The
eyes of the father followed the plastic and ingenious movements of the son with open delight, and he never failed to smile in reply to
the other’s contagious but low laughter. While
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under the influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of ferocity was to be seen
in the softened features of the Sagamore. His
figured panoply of death looked more like a
disguise assumed in mockery than a fierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruction in his
footsteps.
After an hour had passed in the indulgence
of their better feelings, Chingachgook abruptly
announced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his
head in his blanket and stretching his form on
the naked earth. The merriment of Uncas instantly ceased; and carefully raking the coals
in such a manner that they should impart their
warmth to his father’s feet, the youth sought
his own pillow among the ruins of the place.
Imbibing renewed confidence from the security of these experienced foresters, Heyward
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soon imitated their example; and long before
the night had turned, they who lay in the bosom of the ruined work, seemed to slumber
as heavily as the unconscious multitude whose
bones were already beginning to bleach on the
surrounding plain.
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“Land of Albania! let me bend
mine eyes
On thee; thou rugged nurse of savage men!”
–Childe Harold
THE HEAVENS WERE still studded with
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stars, when Hawkeye came to arouse the sleepers. Casting aside their cloaks Munro and Heyward were on their feet while the woodsman
was still making his low calls, at the entrance
of the rude shelter where they had passed the
night. When they issued from beneath its concealment, they found the scout awaiting their
appearance nigh by, and the only salutation between them was the significant gesture for silence, made by their sagacious leader.
“Think over your prayers,” he whispered,
as they approached him; “for He to whom
you make them, knows all tongues; that of the
heart, as well as those of the mouth. But speak
not a syllable; it is rare for a white voice to pitch
itself properly in the woods, as we have seen by
the example of that miserable devil, the singer.
Come,” he continued, turning toward a curtain
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of the works; “let us get into the ditch on this
side, and be regardful to step on the stones and
fragments of wood as you go.”
His companions complied, though to two of
them the reasons of this extraordinary precaution were yet a mystery. When they were in
the low cavity that surrounded the earthen fort
on three sides, they found that passage nearly
choked by the ruins. With care and patience,
however, they succeeded in clambering after
the scout, until they reached the sandy shore
of the Horican.
“That’s a trail that nothing but a nose can
follow,” said the satisfied scout, looking back
along their difficult way; “grass is a treacherous carpet for a flying party to tread on, but
wood and stone take no print from a moccasin.
Had you worn your armed boots, there might,
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indeed, have been something to fear; but with
the deer-skin suitably prepared, a man may
trust himself, generally, on rocks with safety.
Shove in the canoe nigher to the land, Uncas;
this sand will take a stamp as easily as the
butter of the Jarmans on the Mohawk. Softly,
lad, softly; it must not touch the beach, or the
knaves will know by what road we have left
the place.”
The young man observed the precaution;
and the scout, laying a board from the ruins
to the canoe, made a sign for the two officers
to enter. When this was done, everything was
studiously restored to its former disorder; and
then Hawkeye succeeded in reaching his little
birchen vessel, without leaving behind him any
of those marks which he appeared so much to
dread. Heyward was silent until the Indians
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had cautiously paddled the canoe some distance from the fort, and within the broad and
dark shadows that fell from the eastern mountain on the glassy surface of the lake; then he
demanded:
“What need have we for this stolen and hurried departure?”
“If the blood of an Oneida could stain such
a sheet of pure water as this we float on,” returned the scout, “your two eyes would answer your own question. Have you forgotten
the skulking reptile Uncas slew?”
“By no means. But he was said to be alone,
and dead men give no cause for fear.”
“Ay, he was alone in his deviltry! but an
Indian whose tribe counts so many warriors,
need seldom fear his blood will run without the
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death shriek coming speedily from some of his
enemies.”
“But our presence–the authority of Colonel
Munro–would prove sufficient protection
against the anger of our allies, especially in
a case where the wretch so well merited his
fate. I trust in Heaven you have not deviated
a single foot from the direct line of our course
with so slight a reason!”
“Do you think the bullet of that varlet’s rifle would have turned aside, though his sacred majesty the king had stood in its path?”
returned the stubborn scout. “Why did not
the grand Frencher, he who is captain-general
of the Canadas, bury the tomahawks of the
Hurons, if a word from a white can work so
strongly on the natur’ of an Indian?”
The reply of Heyward was interrupted by a
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groan from Munro; but after he had paused a
moment, in deference to the sorrow of his aged
friend he resumed the subject.
“The marquis of Montcalm can only settle
that error with his God,” said the young man
solemnly.
“Ay, ay, now there is reason in your words,
for they are bottomed on religion and honesty.
There is a vast difference between throwing a
regiment of white coats atwixt the tribes and
the prisoners, and coaxing an angry savage to
forget he carries a knife and rifle, with words
that must begin with calling him your son. No,
no,” continued the scout, looking back at the
dim shore of William Henry, which was now
fast receding, and laughing in his own silent
but heartfelt manner; “I have put a trail of water atween us; and unless the imps can make
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friends with the fishes, and hear who has paddled across their basin this fine morning, we
shall throw the length of the Horican behind us
before they have made up their minds which
path to take.”
“With foes in front, and foes in our rear, our
journey is like to be one of danger.”
“Danger!” repeated Hawkeye, calmly; “no,
not absolutely of danger; for, with vigilant ears
and quick eyes, we can manage to keep a few
hours ahead of the knaves; or, if we must try
the rifle, there are three of us who understand
its gifts as well as any you can name on the borders. No, not of danger; but that we shall have
what you may call a brisk push of it, is probable; and it may happen, a brush, a scrimmage,
or some such divarsion, but always where covers are good, and ammunition abundant.”
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It is possible that Heyward’s estimate of danger differed in some degree from that of the
scout, for, instead of replying, he now sat in
silence, while the canoe glided over several
miles of water. Just as the day dawned, they
entered the narrows of the lake19 , and stole
swiftly and cautiously among their numberless
19 The beauties of Lake George are well known to every American tourist. In the height of the mountains
which surround it, and in artificial accessories, it is inferior to the finest of the Swiss and Italian lakes, while in
outline and purity of water it is fully their equal; and in
the number and disposition of its isles and islets much
superior to them all together. There are said to be some
hundreds of islands in a sheet of water less than thirty
miles long. The narrows, which connect what may be
called, in truth, two lakes, are crowded with islands to
such a degree as to leave passages between them frequently of only a few feet in width. The lake itself varies
in breadth from one to three miles.
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little islands. It was by this road that Montcalm
had retired with his army, and the adventurers knew not but he had left some of his Indians in ambush, to protect the rear of his forces,
and collect the stragglers. They, therefore, approached the passage with the customary silence of their guarded habits.
Chingachgook laid aside his paddle; while
Uncas and the scout urged the light vessel
through crooked and intricate channels, where
every foot that they advanced exposed them
to the danger of some sudden rising on their
progress. The eyes of the Sagamore moved
warily from islet to islet, and copse to copse, as
the canoe proceeded; and, when a clearer sheet
of water permitted, his keen vision was bent
along the bald rocks and impending forests
that frowned upon the narrow strait.
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Heyward, who was a doubly interested
spectator, as well from the beauties of the place
as from the apprehension natural to his situation, was just believing that he had permitted
the latter to be excited without sufficient reason, when the paddle ceased moving, in obedience to a signal from Chingachgook.
“Hugh!” exclaimed Uncas, nearly at the moment that the light tap his father had made on
the side of the canoe notified them of the vicinity of danger.
“What now?” asked the scout; “the lake is as
smooth as if the winds had never blown, and
I can see along its sheet for miles; there is not
so much as the black head of a loon dotting the
water.”
The Indian gravely raised his paddle, and
pointed in the direction in which his own
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steady look was riveted. Duncan’s eyes followed the motion. A few rods in their front lay
another of the wooded islets, but it appeared as
calm and peaceful as if its solitude had never
been disturbed by the foot of man.
“I see nothing,” he said, “but land and water;
and a lovely scene it is.”
“Hist!” interrupted the scout. “Ay, Sagamore, there is always a reason for what you
do. ‘Tis but a shade, and yet it is not natural.
You see the mist, major, that is rising above the
island; you can’t call it a fog, for it is more like
a streak of thin cloud–”
“It is vapor from the water.”
“That a child could tell. But what is the edging of blacker smoke that hangs along its lower
side, and which you may trace down into the
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thicket of hazel? ‘Tis from a fire; but one that, in
my judgment, has been suffered to burn low.”
“Let us, then, push for the place, and relieve
our doubts,” said the impatient Duncan; “the
party must be small that can lie on such a bit of
land.”
“If you judge of Indian cunning by the rules
you find in books, or by white sagacity, they
will lead you astray, if not to your death,” returned Hawkeye, examining the signs of the
place with that acuteness which distinguished
him. “If I may be permitted to speak in this
matter, it will be to say, that we have but two
things to choose between: the one is, to return, and give up all thoughts of following the
Hurons–”
“Never!” exclaimed Heyward, in a voice far
too loud for their circumstances.
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“Well, well,” continued Hawkeye, making
a hasty sign to repress his impatience; “I am
much of your mind myself; though I thought it
becoming my experience to tell the whole. We
must, then, make a push, and if the Indians or
Frenchers are in the narrows, run the gauntlet
through these toppling mountains. Is there reason in my words, Sagamore?”
The Indian made no other answer than by
dropping his paddle into the water, and urging forward the canoe. As he held the office
of directing its course, his resolution was sufficiently indicated by the movement. The whole
party now plied their paddles vigorously, and
in a very few moments they had reached a
point whence they might command an entire
view of the northern shore of the island, the
side that had hitherto been concealed.
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“There they are, by all the truth of signs,”
whispered the scout, “two canoes and a smoke.
The knaves haven’t yet got their eyes out of the
mist, or we should hear the accursed whoop.
Together, friends! we are leaving them, and are
already nearly out of whistle of a bullet.”
The well-known crack of a rifle, whose ball
came skipping along the placid surface of the
strait, and a shrill yell from the island, interrupted his speech, and announced that their
passage was discovered. In another instant
several savages were seen rushing into canoes,
which were soon dancing over the water in
pursuit. These fearful precursors of a coming struggle produced no change in the countenances and movements of his three guides, so
far as Duncan could discover, except that the
strokes of their paddles were longer and more
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in unison, and caused the little bark to spring
forward like a creature possessing life and volition.
“Hold them there, Sagamore,” said Hawkeye, looking coolly backward over this left
shoulder, while he still plied his paddle; “keep
them just there. Them Hurons have never a
piece in their nation that will execute at this
distance; but ‘killdeer’ has a barrel on which
a man may calculate.”
The scout having ascertained that the Mohicans were sufficient of themselves to maintain
the requisite distance, deliberately laid aside
his paddle, and raised the fatal rifle. Three several times he brought the piece to his shoulder,
and when his companions were expecting its
report, he as often lowered it to request the Indians would permit their enemies to approach
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a little nigher. At length his accurate and fastidious eye seemed satisfied, and, throwing out
his left arm on the barrel, he was slowly elevating the muzzle, when an exclamation from Uncas, who sat in the bow, once more caused him
to suspend the shot.
“What, now, lad?” demanded Hawkeye;
“you save a Huron from the death-shriek by
that word; have you reason for what you do?”
Uncas pointed toward a rocky shore a little in their front, whence another war canoe
was darting directly across their course. It was
too obvious now that their situation was imminently perilous to need the aid of language
to confirm it. The scout laid aside his rifle,
and resumed the paddle, while Chingachgook
inclined the bows of the canoe a little toward
the western shore, in order to increase the dis-
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tance between them and this new enemy. In the
meantime they were reminded of the presence
of those who pressed upon their rear, by wild
and exulting shouts. The stirring scene awakened even Munro from his apathy.
“Let us make for the rocks on the main,”
he said, with the mien of a tired soldier, “and
give battle to the savages. God forbid that I,
or those attached to me and mine, should ever
trust again to the faith of any servant of the
Louis’s!”
“He who wishes to prosper in Indian warfare,” returned the scout, “must not be too
proud to learn from the wit of a native. Lay her
more along the land, Sagamore; we are doubling on the varlets, and perhaps they may try
to strike our trail on the long calculation.”
Hawkeye was not mistaken; for when the
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Hurons found their course was likely to throw
them behind their chase they rendered it less
direct, until, by gradually bearing more and
more obliquely, the two canoes were, ere long,
gliding on parallel lines, within two hundred
yards of each other. It now became entirely a
trial of speed. So rapid was the progress of the
light vessels, that the lake curled in their front,
in miniature waves, and their motion became
undulating by its own velocity. It was, perhaps,
owing to this circumstance, in addition to the
necessity of keeping every hand employed at
the paddles, that the Hurons had not immediate recourse to their firearms. The exertions of
the fugitives were too severe to continue long,
and the pursuers had the advantage of numbers. Duncan observed with uneasiness, that
the scout began to look anxiously about him, as
if searching for some further means of assisting
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their flight.
“Edge her a little more from the sun, Sagamore,” said the stubborn woodsman; “I see
the knaves are sparing a man to the rifle. A single broken bone might lose us our scalps. Edge
more from the sun and we will put the island
between us.”
The expedient was not without its use. A
long, low island lay at a little distance before
them, and, as they closed with it, the chasing
canoe was compelled to take a side opposite to
that on which the pursued passed. The scout
and his companions did not neglect this advantage, but the instant they were hid from observation by the bushes, they redoubled efforts
that before had seemed prodigious. The two
canoes came round the last low point, like two
coursers at the top of their speed, the fugitives
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taking the lead. This change had brought them
nigher to each other, however, while it altered
their relative positions.
“You showed knowledge in the shaping of a
birchen bark, Uncas, when you chose this from
among the Huron canoes,” said the scout, smiling, apparently more in satisfaction at their superiority in the race than from that prospect
of final escape which now began to open a little upon them. “The imps have put all their
strength again at the paddles, and we are to
struggle for our scalps with bits of flattened
wood, instead of clouded barrels and true eyes.
A long stroke, and together, friends.”
“They are preparing for a shot,” said Heyward; “and as we are in a line with them, it can
scarcely fail.”
“Get you, then, into the bottom of the ca-
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noe,” returned the scout; “you and the colonel;
it will be so much taken from the size of the
mark.”
Heyward smiled, as he answered:
“It would be but an ill example for the highest in rank to dodge, while the warriors were
under fire.”
“Lord! Lord! That is now a white man’s
courage!” exclaimed the scout; “and like to
many of his notions, not to be maintained by
reason. Do you think the Sagamore, or Uncas, or even I, who am a man without a cross,
would deliberate about finding a cover in the
scrimmage, when an open body would do no
good? For what have the Frenchers reared up
their Quebec, if fighting is always to be done in
the clearings?”
“All that you say is very true, my friend,”
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replied Heyward; “still, our customs must prevent us from doing as you wish.”
A volley from the Hurons interrupted the
discourse, and as the bullets whistled about
them, Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned,
looking back at himself and Munro. Notwithstanding the nearness of the enemy, and his
own great personal danger, the countenance
of the young warrior expressed no other emotion, as the former was compelled to think,
than amazement at finding men willing to encounter so useless an exposure. Chingachgook
was probably better acquainted with the notions of white men, for he did not even cast
a glance aside from the riveted look his eye
maintained on the object by which he governed
their course. A ball soon struck the light and
polished paddle from the hands of the chief,
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and drove it through the air, far in the advance.
A shout arose from the Hurons, who seized the
opportunity to fire another volley. Uncas described an arc in the water with his own blade,
and as the canoe passed swiftly on, Chingachgook recovered his paddle, and flourishing it
on high, he gave the war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent his strength and skill again
to the important task.
The clamorous sounds of “Le Gros Serpent!”
“La Longue Carabine!” “Le Cerf Agile!” burst
at once from the canoes behind, and seemed
to give new zeal to the pursuers. The scout
seized “killdeer” in his left hand, and elevating it about his head, he shook it in triumph
at his enemies. The savages answered the insult with a yell, and immediately another volley succeeded. The bullets pattered along the
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lake, and one even pierced the bark of their
little vessel. No perceptible emotion could be
discovered in the Mohicans during this critical
moment, their rigid features expressing neither
hope nor alarm; but the scout again turned his
head, and, laughing in his own silent manner,
he said to Heyward:
“The knaves love to hear the sounds of their
pieces; but the eye is not to be found among
the Mingoes that can calculate a true range in a
dancing canoe! You see the dumb devils have
taken off a man to charge, and by the smallest measurement that can be allowed, we move
three feet to their two!”
Duncan, who was not altogether as easy under this nice estimate of distances as his companions, was glad to find, however, that owing to their superior dexterity, and the diver-
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sion among their enemies, they were very sensibly obtaining the advantage. The Hurons
soon fired again, and a bullet struck the blade
of Hawkeye’s paddle without injury.
“That will do,” said the scout, examining the
slight indentation with a curious eye; “it would
not have cut the skin of an infant, much less of
men, who, like us, have been blown upon by
the heavens in their anger. Now, major, if you
will try to use this piece of flattened wood, I’ll
let ‘killdeer’ take a part in the conversation.”
Heyward seized the paddle, and applied
himself to the work with an eagerness that supplied the place of skill, while Hawkeye was
engaged in inspecting the priming of his rifle. The latter then took a swift aim and fired.
The Huron in the bows of the leading canoe
had risen with a similar object, and he now fell
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backward, suffering his gun to escape from his
hands into the water. In an instant, however,
he recovered his feet, though his gestures were
wild and bewildered. At the same moment his
companions suspended their efforts, and the
chasing canoes clustered together, and became
stationary. Chingachgook and Uncas profited
by the interval to regain their wind, though
Duncan continued to work with the most persevering industry. The father and son now cast
calm but inquiring glances at each other, to
learn if either had sustained any injury by the
fire; for both well knew that no cry or exclamation would, in such a moment of necessity have
been permitted to betray the accident. A few
large drops of blood were trickling down the
shoulder of the Sagamore, who, when he perceived that the eyes of Uncas dwelt too long on
the sight, raised some water in the hollow of his
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hand, and washing off the stain, was content to
manifest, in this simple manner, the slightness
of the injury.
“Softly, softly, major,” said the scout, who
by this time had reloaded his rifle; “we are a
little too far already for a rifle to put forth its
beauties, and you see yonder imps are holding
a council. Let them come up within striking
distance–my eye may well be trusted in such
a matter–and I will trail the varlets the length
of the Horican, guaranteeing that not a shot of
theirs shall, at the worst, more than break the
skin, while ‘killdeer’ shall touch the life twice
in three times.”
“We forget our errand,” returned the diligent
Duncan. “For God’s sake let us profit by this
advantage, and increase our distance from the
enemy.”
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“Give me my children,” said Munro,
hoarsely; “trifle no longer with a father’s
agony, but restore me my babes.”
Long and habitual deference to the mandates of his superiors had taught the scout the
virtue of obedience. Throwing a last and lingering glance at the distant canoes, he laid
aside his rifle, and, relieving the wearied Duncan, resumed the paddle, which he wielded
with sinews that never tired. His efforts were
seconded by those of the Mohicans and a very
few minutes served to place such a sheet of water between them and their enemies, that Heyward once more breathed freely.
The lake now began to expand, and their
route lay along a wide reach, that was lined,
as before, by high and ragged mountains. But
the islands were few, and easily avoided. The
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strokes of the paddles grew more measured
and regular, while they who plied them continued their labor, after the close and deadly chase
from which they had just relieved themselves,
with as much coolness as though their speed
had been tried in sport, rather than under such
pressing, nay, almost desperate, circumstances.
Instead of following the western shore,
whither their errand led them, the wary Mohican inclined his course more toward those hills
behind which Montcalm was known to have
led his army into the formidable fortress of
Ticonderoga. As the Hurons, to every appearance, had abandoned the pursuit, there was no
apparent reason for this excess of caution. It
was, however, maintained for hours, until they
had reached a bay, nigh the northern termination of the lake. Here the canoe was driven
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upon the beach, and the whole party landed.
Hawkeye and Heyward ascended an adjacent
bluff, where the former, after considering the
expanse of water beneath him, pointed out to
the latter a small black object, hovering under
a headland, at the distance of several miles.
“Do you see it?” demanded the scout. “Now,
what would you account that spot, were you
left alone to white experience to find your way
through this wilderness?”
“But for its distance and its magnitude, I
should suppose it a bird. Can it be a living object?”
“‘Tis a canoe of good birchen bark, and paddled by fierce and crafty Mingoes. Though
Providence has lent to those who inhabit the
woods eyes that would be needless to men in
the settlements, where there are inventions to
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assist the sight, yet no human organs can see
all the dangers which at this moment circumvent us. These varlets pretend to be bent chiefly
on their sun-down meal, but the moment it is
dark they will be on our trail, as true as hounds
on the scent. We must throw them off, or our
pursuit of Le Renard Subtil may be given up.
These lakes are useful at times, especially when
the game take the water,” continued the scout,
gazing about him with a countenance of concern; “but they give no cover, except it be to the
fishes. God knows what the country would be,
if the settlements should ever spread far from
the two rivers. Both hunting and war would
lose their beauty.”
“Let us not delay a moment, without some
good and obvious cause.”
“I little like that smoke, which you may see
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worming up along the rock above the canoe,”
interrupted the abstracted scout. “My life on it,
other eyes than ours see it, and know its meaning. Well, words will not mend the matter, and
it is time that we were doing.”
Hawkeye moved away from the lookout,
and descended, musing profoundly, to the
shore. He communicated the result of his observations to his companions, in Delaware, and
a short and earnest consultation succeeded.
When it terminated, the three instantly set
about executing their new resolutions.
The canoe was lifted from the water, and
borne on the shoulders of the party, they proceeded into the wood, making as broad and obvious a trail as possible. They soon reached the
water-course, which they crossed, and, continuing onward, until they came to an extensive
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and naked rock. At this point, where their footsteps might be expected to be no longer visible,
they retraced their route to the brook, walking
backward, with the utmost care. They now followed the bed of the little stream to the lake,
into which they immediately launched their canoe again. A low point concealed them from
the headland, and the margin of the lake was
fringed for some distance with dense and overhanging bushes. Under the cover of these natural advantages, they toiled their way, with patient industry, until the scout pronounced that
he believed it would be safe once more to land.
The halt continued until evening rendered
objects indistinct and uncertain to the eye.
Then they resumed their route, and, favored
by the darkness, pushed silently and vigorously toward the western shore. Although
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the rugged outline of mountain, to which they
were steering, presented no distinctive marks
to the eyes of Duncan, the Mohican entered the
little haven he had selected with the confidence
and accuracy of an experienced pilot.
The boat was again lifted and borne into the
woods, where it was carefully concealed under
a pile of brush. The adventurers assumed their
arms and packs, and the scout announced to
Munro and Heyward that he and the Indians
were at last in readiness to proceed.
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“If you find a man there,
he shall die a flea’s death.”
–Merry Wives of Windsor.
THE PARTY HAD landed on the border of a
region that is, even to this day, less known to
the inhabitants of the States than the deserts
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of Arabia, or the steppes of Tartary. It was
the sterile and rugged district which separates
the tributaries of Champlain from those of the
Hudson, the Mohawk, and the St. Lawrence.
Since the period of our tale the active spirit of
the country has surrounded it with a belt of
rich and thriving settlements, though none but
the hunter or the savage is ever known even
now to penetrate its wild recesses.
As Hawkeye and the Mohicans had, however, often traversed the mountains and valleys
of this vast wilderness, they did not hesitate to
plunge into its depth, with the freedom of men
accustomed to its privations and difficulties.
For many hours the travelers toiled on their
laborious way, guided by a star, or following
the direction of some water-course, until the
scout called a halt, and holding a short consul-
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tation with the Indians, they lighted their fire,
and made the usual preparations to pass the remainder of the night where they then were.
Imitating the example, and emulating the
confidence of their more experienced associates, Munro and Duncan slept without fear,
if not without uneasiness. The dews were suffered to exhale, and the sun had dispersed the
mists, and was shedding a strong and clear
light in the forest, when the travelers resumed
their journey.
After proceeding a few miles, the progress of
Hawkeye, who led the advance, became more
deliberate and watchful. He often stopped to
examine the trees; nor did he cross a rivulet
without attentively considering the quantity,
the velocity, and the color of its waters. Distrusting his own judgment, his appeals to the
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opinion of Chingachgook were frequent and
earnest. During one of these conferences Heyward observed that Uncas stood a patient and
silent, though, as he imagined, an interested
listener. He was strongly tempted to address
the young chief, and demand his opinion of
their progress; but the calm and dignified demeanor of the native induced him to believe,
that, like himself, the other was wholly dependent on the sagacity and intelligence of the seniors of the party. At last the scout spoke in
English, and at once explained the embarrassment of their situation.
“When I found that the home path of the
Hurons run north,” he said, “it did not need the
judgment of many long years to tell that they
would follow the valleys, and keep atween the
waters of the Hudson and the Horican, until
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they might strike the springs of the Canada
streams, which would lead them into the heart
of the country of the Frenchers. Yet here are
we, within a short range of the Scaroons, and
not a sign of a trail have we crossed! Human
natur’ is weak, and it is possible we may not
have taken the proper scent.”
“Heaven protect us from such an error!” exclaimed Duncan. “Let us retrace our steps, and
examine as we go, with keener eyes. Has Uncas
no counsel to offer in such a strait?”
The young Mohican cast a glance at his father, but, maintaining his quiet and reserved
mien, he continued silent. Chingachgook had
caught the look, and motioning with his hand,
he bade him speak. The moment this permission was accorded, the countenance of Uncas
changed from its grave composure to a gleam
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of intelligence and joy. Bounding forward like
a deer, he sprang up the side of a little acclivity,
a few rods in advance, and stood, exultingly,
over a spot of fresh earth, that looked as though
it had been recently upturned by the passage
of some heavy animal. The eyes of the whole
party followed the unexpected movement, and
read their success in the air of triumph that the
youth assumed.
“‘Tis the trail!” exclaimed the scout, advancing to the spot; “the lad is quick of sight and
keen of wit for his years.”
“‘Tis extraordinary that he should have withheld his knowledge so long,” muttered Duncan, at his elbow.
“It would have been more wonderful had he
spoken without a bidding. No, no; your young
white, who gathers his learning from books
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and can measure what he knows by the page,
may conceit that his knowledge, like his legs,
outruns that of his fathers’, but, where experience is the master, the scholar is made to know
the value of years, and respects them accordingly.”
“See!” said Uncas, pointing north and south,
at the evident marks of the broad trail on either
side of him, “the dark-hair has gone toward the
forest.”
“Hound never ran on a more beautiful
scent,” responded the scout, dashing forward,
at once, on the indicated route; “we are favored, greatly favored, and can follow with
high noses. Ay, here are both your waddling
beasts: this Huron travels like a white general.
The fellow is stricken with a judgment, and is
mad! Look sharp for wheels, Sagamore,” he
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continued, looking back, and laughing in his
newly awakened satisfaction; “we shall soon
have the fool journeying in a coach, and that
with three of the best pair of eyes on the borders in his rear.”
The spirits of the scout, and the astonishing success of the chase, in which a circuitous
distance of more than forty miles had been
passed, did not fail to impart a portion of hope
to the whole party. Their advance was rapid;
and made with as much confidence as a traveler would proceed along a wide highway. If
a rock, or a rivulet, or a bit of earth harder
than common, severed the links of the clew
they followed, the true eye of the scout recovered them at a distance, and seldom rendered
the delay of a single moment necessary. Their
progress was much facilitated by the certainty
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that Magua had found it necessary to journey
through the valleys; a circumstance which rendered the general direction of the route sure.
Nor had the Huron entirely neglected the arts
uniformly practised by the natives when retiring in front of an enemy. False trails and sudden turnings were frequent, wherever a brook
or the formation of the ground rendered them
feasible; but his pursuers were rarely deceived,
and never failed to detect their error, before
they had lost either time or distance on the deceptive track.
By the middle of the afternoon they had
passed the Scaroons, and were following the
route of the declining sun. After descending
an eminence to a low bottom, through which
a swift stream glided, they suddenly came to a
place where the party of Le Renard had made a
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halt. Extinguished brands were lying around a
spring, the offals of a deer were scattered about
the place, and the trees bore evident marks of
having been browsed by the horses. At a little distance, Heyward discovered, and contemplated with tender emotion, the small bower
under which he was fain to believe that Cora
and Alice had reposed. But while the earth was
trodden, and the footsteps of both men and
beasts were so plainly visible around the place,
the trail appeared to have suddenly ended.
It was easy to follow the tracks of the Narragansetts, but they seemed only to have wandered without guides, or any other object than
the pursuit of food. At length Uncas, who, with
his father, had endeavored to trace the route
of the horses, came upon a sign of their presence that was quite recent. Before following
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the clew, he communicated his success to his
companions; and while the latter were consulting on the circumstance, the youth reappeared,
leading the two fillies, with their saddles broken, and the housings soiled, as though they
had been permitted to run at will for several
days.
“What should this prove?” said Duncan,
turning pale, and glancing his eyes around
him, as if he feared the brush and leaves were
about to give up some horrid secret.
“That our march is come to a quick end, and
that we are in an enemy’s country,” returned
the scout. “Had the knave been pressed, and
the gentle ones wanted horses to keep up with
the party, he might have taken their scalps; but
without an enemy at his heels, and with such
rugged beasts as these, he would not hurt a
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hair of their heads. I know your thoughts, and
shame be it to our color that you have reason
for them; but he who thinks that even a Mingo
would ill-treat a woman, unless it be to tomahawk her, knows nothing of Indian natur’, or
the laws of the woods. No, no; I have heard
that the French Indians had come into these
hills to hunt the moose, and we are getting
within scent of their camp. Why should they
not? The morning and evening guns of Ty may
be heard any day among these mountains; for
the Frenchers are running a new line atween
the provinces of the king and the Canadas. It is
true that the horses are here, but the Hurons are
gone; let us, then, hunt for the path by which
they parted.”
Hawkeye and the Mohicans now applied
themselves to their task in good earnest. A
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circle of a few hundred feet in circumference
was drawn, and each of the party took a segment for his portion. The examination, however, resulted in no discovery. The impressions
of footsteps were numerous, but they all appeared like those of men who had wandered
about the spot, without any design to quit it.
Again the scout and his companions made the
circuit of the halting place, each slowly following the other, until they assembled in the center
once more, no wiser than when they started.
“Such cunning is not without its deviltry,”
exclaimed Hawkeye, when he met the disappointed looks of his assistants.
“We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring, and going over the ground
by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his
tribe that he has a foot which leaves no print.”
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Setting the example himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with renewed zeal. Not
a leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed, and the stones lifted; for Indian cunning was known frequently to adopt these objects as covers, laboring with the utmost patience and industry, to conceal each footstep as
they proceeded. Still no discovery was made.
At length Uncas, whose activity had enabled
him to achieve his portion of the task the soonest, raked the earth across the turbid little rill
which ran from the spring, and diverted its
course into another channel. So soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped
over it with keen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced the success of
the young warrior. The whole party crowded
to the spot where Uncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the moist alluvion.
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“This lad will be an honor to his people,”
said Hawkeye, regarding the trail with as much
admiration as a naturalist would expend on the
tusk of a mammoth or the rib of a mastodon;
“ay, and a thorn in the sides of the Hurons.
Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian! the
weight is too much on the heel, and the toes are
squared, as though one of the French dancers
had been in, pigeon-winging his tribe! Run
back, Uncas, and bring me the size of the
singer’s foot. You will find a beautiful print of
it just opposite yon rock, agin the hillside.”
While the youth was engaged in this commission, the scout and Chingachgook were attentively considering the impressions. The
measurements agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pronounced that the footstep was that
of David, who had once more been made to ex-
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change his shoes for moccasins.
“I can now read the whole of it, as plainly as
if I had seen the arts of Le Subtil,” he added;
“the singer being a man whose gifts lay chiefly
in his throat and feet, was made to go first, and
the others have trod in his steps, imitating their
formation.”
“But,” cried Duncan, “I see no signs of–”
“The gentle ones,” interrupted the scout;
“the varlet has found a way to carry them, until he supposed he had thrown any followers
off the scent. My life on it, we see their pretty
little feet again, before many rods go by.”
The whole party now proceeded, following
the course of the rill, keeping anxious eyes
on the regular impressions. The water soon
flowed into its bed again, but watching the
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ground on either side, the foresters pursued
their way content with knowing that the trail
lay beneath. More than half a mile was passed,
before the rill rippled close around the base of
an extensive and dry rock. Here they paused to
make sure that the Hurons had not quitted the
water.
It was fortunate they did so. For the quick
and active Uncas soon found the impression of
a foot on a bunch of moss, where it would seem
an Indian had inadvertently trodden. Pursuing the direction given by this discovery, he entered the neighboring thicket, and struck the
trail, as fresh and obvious as it had been before they reached the spring. Another shout
announced the good fortune of the youth to
his companions, and at once terminated the
search.
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“Ay, it has been planned with Indian judgment,” said the scout, when the party was assembled around the place, “and would have
blinded white eyes.”
“Shall we proceed?” demanded Heyward.
“Softly, softly, we know our path; but it is
good to examine the formation of things. This
is my schooling, major; and if one neglects the
book, there is little chance of learning from the
open land of Providence. All is plain but one
thing, which is the manner that the knave contrived to get the gentle ones along the blind
trail. Even a Huron would be too proud to let
their tender feet touch the water.”
“Will this assist in explaining the difficulty?”
said Heyward, pointing toward the fragments
of a sort of handbarrow, that had been rudely
constructed of boughs, and bound together
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with withes, and which now seemed carelessly
cast aside as useless.
“‘Tis explained!” cried the delighted Hawkeye. “If them varlets have passed a minute,
they have spent hours in striving to fabricate a
lying end to their trail! Well, I’ve known them
to waste a day in the same manner to as little
purpose. Here we have three pair of moccasins,
and two of little feet. It is amazing that any
mortal beings can journey on limbs so small!
Pass me the thong of buckskin, Uncas, and let
me take the length of this foot. By the Lord, it
is no longer than a child’s and yet the maidens
are tall and comely. That Providence is partial
in its gifts, for its own wise reasons, the best
and most contented of us must allow.”
“The tender limbs of my daughters are unequal to these hardships,” said Munro, looking
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at the light footsteps of his children, with a parent’s love; “we shall find their fainting forms in
this desert.”
“Of that there is little cause of fear,” returned
the scout, slowly shaking his head; “this is a
firm and straight, though a light step, and not
over long. See, the heel has hardly touched the
ground; and there the dark-hair has made a little jump, from root to root. No, no; my knowledge for it, neither of them was nigh fainting,
hereaway. Now, the singer was beginning to be
footsore and leg-weary, as is plain by his trail.
There, you see, he slipped; here he has traveled
wide and tottered; and there again it looks as
though he journeyed on snowshoes. Ay, ay, a
man who uses his throat altogether, can hardly
give his legs a proper training.”
From such undeniable testimony did the
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practised woodsman arrive at the truth, with
nearly as much certainty and precision as if he
had been a witness of all those events which
his ingenuity so easily elucidated. Cheered by
these assurances, and satisfied by a reasoning
that was so obvious, while it was so simple, the
party resumed its course, after making a short
halt, to take a hurried repast.
When the meal was ended, the scout cast a
glance upward at the setting sun, and pushed
forward with a rapidity which compelled Heyward and the still vigorous Munro to exert all
their muscles to equal. Their route now lay
along the bottom which has already been mentioned. As the Hurons had made no further efforts to conceal their footsteps, the progress of
the pursuers was no longer delayed by uncertainty. Before an hour had elapsed, however,
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the speed of Hawkeye sensibly abated, and his
head, instead of maintaining its former direct
and forward look, began to turn suspiciously
from side to side, as if he were conscious of approaching danger. He soon stopped again, and
waited for the whole party to come up.
“I scent the Hurons,” he said, speaking to
the Mohicans; “yonder is open sky, through the
treetops, and we are getting too nigh their encampment. Sagamore, you will take the hillside, to the right; Uncas will bend along the
brook to the left, while I will try the trail. If
anything should happen, the call will be three
croaks of a crow. I saw one of the birds fanning himself in the air, just beyond the dead
oak–another sign that we are approaching an
encampment.”
The Indians departed their several ways
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without reply, while Hawkeye cautiously proceeded with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon
pressed to the side of their guide, eager to catch
an early glimpse of those enemies he had pursued with so much toil and anxiety. His companion told him to steal to the edge of the
wood, which, as usual, was fringed with a
thicket, and wait his coming, for he wished to
examine certain suspicious signs a little on one
side. Duncan obeyed, and soon found himself in a situation to command a view which
he found as extraordinary as it was novel.
The trees of many acres had been felled,
and the glow of a mild summer’s evening had
fallen on the clearing, in beautiful contrast to
the gray light of the forest. A short distance
from the place where Duncan stood, the stream
had seemingly expanded into a little lake, cov-
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ering most of the low land, from mountain
to mountain. The water fell out of this wide
basin, in a cataract so regular and gentle, that
it appeared rather to be the work of human
hands than fashioned by nature. A hundred
earthen dwellings stood on the margin of the
lake, and even in its waters, as though the
latter had overflowed its usual banks. Their
rounded roofs, admirably molded for defense
against the weather, denoted more of industry and foresight than the natives were wont to
bestow on their regular habitations, much less
on those they occupied for the temporary purposes of hunting and war. In short, the whole
village or town, whichever it might be termed,
possessed more of method and neatness of execution, than the white men had been accustomed to believe belonged, ordinarily, to the
Indian habits. It appeared, however, to be de-
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serted. At least, so thought Duncan for many
minutes; but, at length, he fancied he discovered several human forms advancing toward
him on all fours, and apparently dragging in
the train some heavy, and as he was quick
to apprehend, some formidable engine. Just
then a few dark-looking heads gleamed out of
the dwellings, and the place seemed suddenly
alive with beings, which, however, glided from
cover to cover so swiftly, as to allow no opportunity of examining their humors or pursuits.
Alarmed at these suspicious and inexplicable
movements, he was about to attempt the signal of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at
hand drew his eyes in another direction.
The young man started, and recoiled a few
paces instinctively, when he found himself
within a hundred yards of a stranger Indian.
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Recovering his recollection on the instant, instead of sounding an alarm, which might prove
fatal to himself, he remained stationary, an attentive observer of the other’s motions.
An instant of calm observation served to assure Duncan that he was undiscovered. The
native, like himself, seemed occupied in considering the low dwellings of the village, and
the stolen movements of its inhabitants. It was
impossible to discover the expression of his
features through the grotesque mask of paint
under which they were concealed, though
Duncan fancied it was rather melancholy than
savage. His head was shaved, as usual, with
the exception of the crown, from whose tuft
three or four faded feathers from a hawk’s
wing were loosely dangling. A ragged calico mantle half encircled his body, while his
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nether garment was composed of an ordinary
shirt, the sleeves of which were made to perform the office that is usually executed by a
much more commodious arrangement. His
legs were, however, covered with a pair of
good deer-skin moccasins. Altogether, the appearance of the individual was forlorn and
miserable.
Duncan was still curiously observing the
person of his neighbor when the scout stole
silently and cautiously to his side.
“You see we have reached their settlement
or encampment,” whispered the young man;
“and here is one of the savages himself, in
a very embarrassing position for our further
movements.”
Hawkeye started, and dropped his rifle,
when, directed by the finger of his companion,
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the stranger came under his view. Then lowering the dangerous muzzle he stretched forward
his long neck, as if to assist a scrutiny that was
already intensely keen.
“The imp is not a Huron,” he said, “nor of
any of the Canada tribes; and yet you see, by
his clothes, the knave has been plundering a
white. Ay, Montcalm has raked the woods for
his inroad, and a whooping, murdering set of
varlets has he gathered together. Can you see
where he has put his rifle or his bow?”
“He appears to have no arms; nor does he
seem to be viciously inclined. Unless he communicate the alarm to his fellows, who, as you
see, are dodging about the water, we have but
little to fear from him.”
The scout turned to Heyward, and regarded
him a moment with unconcealed amazement.
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Then opening wide his mouth, he indulged in
unrestrained and heartfelt laughter, though in
that silent and peculiar manner which danger
had so long taught him to practise.
Repeating the words, “Fellows who are
dodging about the water!” he added, “so much
for schooling and passing a boyhood in the settlements! The knave has long legs, though, and
shall not be trusted. Do you keep him under
your rifle while I creep in behind, through the
bush, and take him alive. Fire on no account.”
Heyward had already permitted his companion to bury part of his person in the thicket,
when, stretching forth his arm, he arrested him,
in order to ask:
“If I see you in danger, may I not risk a shot?”
Hawkeye regarded him a moment, like one
who knew not how to take the question; then,
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nodding his head, he answered, still laughing,
though inaudibly:
“Fire a whole platoon, major.”
In the next moment he was concealed by
the leaves. Duncan waited several minutes in
feverish impatience, before he caught another
glimpse of the scout. Then he reappeared,
creeping along the earth, from which his dress
was hardly distinguishable, directly in the rear
of his intended captive. Having reached within
a few yards of the latter, he arose to his feet,
silently and slowly. At that instant, several
loud blows were struck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes just in time to perceive
that a hundred dark forms were plunging, in
a body, into the troubled little sheet. Grasping
his rifle his looks were again bent on the Indian
near him. Instead of taking the alarm, the un-
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conscious savage stretched forward his neck,
as if he also watched the movements about the
gloomy lake, with a sort of silly curiosity. In
the meantime, the uplifted hand of Hawkeye
was above him. But, without any apparent reason, it was withdrawn, and its owner indulged
in another long, though still silent, fit of merriment. When the peculiar and hearty laughter
of Hawkeye was ended, instead of grasping his
victim by the throat, he tapped him lightly on
the shoulder, and exclaimed aloud:
“How now, friend! have you a mind to teach
the beavers to sing?”
“Even so,” was the ready answer. “It would
seem that the Being that gave them power to
improve His gifts so well, would not deny
them voices to proclaim His praise.”
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“Bot.–Abibl we all met?
Qui.–Pat–pat; and here’s a marvelous convenient place for our
rehearsal.”
–Midsummer Night’s Dream
THE READER MAY better imagine, than we
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describe the surprise of Heyward. His lurking Indians were suddenly converted into fourfooted beasts; his lake into a beaver pond; his
cataract into a dam, constructed by those industrious and ingenious quadrupeds; and a
suspected enemy into his tried friend, David
Gamut, the master of psalmody. The presence
of the latter created so many unexpected hopes
relative to the sisters that, without a moment’s
hesitation, the young man broke out of his ambush, and sprang forward to join the two principal actors in the scene.
The merriment of Hawkeye was not easily appeased. Without ceremony, and with
a rough hand, he twirled the supple Gamut
around on his heel, and more than once affirmed that the Hurons had done themselves
great credit in the fashion of his costume. Then,
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seizing the hand of the other, he squeezed it
with a grip that brought tears into the eyes of
the placid David, and wished him joy of his
new condition.
“You were about opening your throatpractisings among the beavers, were ye?” he
said. “The cunning devils know half the trade
already, for they beat the time with their tails,
as you heard just now; and in good time it was,
too, or ‘killdeer’ might have sounded the first
note among them. I have known greater fools,
who could read and write, than an experienced
old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals are
born dumb! What think you of such a song as
this?”
David shut his sensitive ears, and even Heyward apprised as he was of the nature of the
cry, looked upward in quest of the bird, as the
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cawing of a crow rang in the air about them.
“See!” continued the laughing scout, as he
pointed toward the remainder of the party,
who, in obedience to the signal, were already
approaching; “this is music which has its natural virtues; it brings two good rifles to my elbow, to say nothing of the knives and tomahawks. But we see that you are safe; now tell
us what has become of the maidens.”
“They are captives to the heathen,” said
David; “and, though greatly troubled in spirit,
enjoying comfort and safety in the body.”
“Both!” demanded the breathless Heyward.
“Even so. Though our wayfaring has been
sore and our sustenance scanty, we have had
little other cause for complaint, except the violence done our feelings, by being thus led in
captivity into a far land.”
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“Bless ye for these very words!” exclaimed
the trembling Munro; “I shall then receive my
babes, spotless and angel-like, as I lost them!”
“I know not that their delivery is at hand,”
returned the doubting David; “the leader of
these savages is possessed of an evil spirit that
no power short of Omnipotence can tame. I
have tried him sleeping and waking, but neither sounds nor language seem to touch his
soul.”
“Where is the knave?” bluntly interrupted
the scout.
“He hunts the moose to-day, with his young
men; and tomorrow, as I hear, they pass further into the forests, and nigher to the borders
of Canada. The elder maiden is conveyed to a
neighboring people, whose lodges are situate
beyond yonder black pinnacle of rock; while
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the younger is detained among the women of
the Hurons, whose dwellings are but two short
miles hence, on a table-land, where the fire had
done the office of the axe, and prepared the
place for their reception.”
“Alice, my gentle Alice!” murmured Heyward; “she has lost the consolation of her sister’s presence!”
“Even so. But so far as praise and thanksgiving in psalmody can temper the spirit in affliction, she has not suffered.”
“Has she then a heart for music?”
“Of the graver and more solemn character;
though it must be acknowledged that, in spite
of all my endeavors, the maiden weeps oftener
than she smiles. At such moments I forbear to
press the holy songs; but there are many sweet
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and comfortable periods of satisfactory communication, when the ears of the savages are
astounded with the upliftings of our voices.”
“And why are you permitted to go at large,
unwatched?”
David composed his features into what he
intended should express an air of modest humility, before he meekly replied:
“Little be the praise to such a worm as I.
But, though the power of psalmody was suspended in the terrible business of that field of
blood through which we have passed, it has recovered its influence even over the souls of the
heathen, and I am suffered to go and come at
will.”
The scout laughed, and, tapping his own
forehead significantly, he perhaps explained
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the singular indulgence more satisfactorily
when he said:
“The Indians never harm a non-composser.
But why, when the path lay open before your
eyes, did you not strike back on your own trail
(it is not so blind as that which a squirrel would
make), and bring in the tidings to Edward?”
The scout, remembering only his own sturdy
and iron nature, had probably exacted a task
that David, under no circumstances, could
have performed. But, without entirely losing
the meekness of his air, the latter was content
to answer:
“Though my soul would rejoice to visit the
habitations of Christendom once more, my
feet would rather follow the tender spirits intrusted to my keeping, even into the idolatrous
province of the Jesuits, than take one step back-
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ward, while they pined in captivity and sorrow.”
Though the figurative language of David
was not very intelligible, the sincere and steady
expression of his eye, and the glow of his honest countenance, were not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed closer to his side, and regarded the
speaker with a look of commendation, while
his father expressed his satisfaction by the ordinary pithy exclamation of approbation. The
scout shook his head as he rejoined:
“The Lord never intended that the man
should place all his endeavors in his throat, to
the neglect of other and better gifts! But he
has fallen into the hands of some silly woman,
when he should have been gathering his education under a blue sky, among the beauties of
the forest. Here, friend; I did intend to kindle
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a fire with this tooting-whistle of thine; but, as
you value the thing, take it, and blow your best
on it.”
Gamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong
an expression of pleasure as he believed compatible with the grave functions he exercised.
After essaying its virtues repeatedly, in contrast
with his own voice, and, satisfying himself that
none of its melody was lost, he made a very
serious demonstration toward achieving a few
stanzas of one of the longest effusions in the little volume so often mentioned.
Heyward, however, hastily interrupted his
pious purpose by continuing questions concerning the past and present condition of his
fellow captives, and in a manner more methodical than had been permitted by his feelings in
the opening of their interview. David, though
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he regarded his treasure with longing eyes, was
constrained to answer, especially as the venerable father took a part in the interrogatories,
with an interest too imposing to be denied. Nor
did the scout fail to throw in a pertinent inquiry, whenever a fitting occasion presented.
In this manner, though with frequent interruptions which were filled with certain threatening sounds from the recovered instrument, the
pursuers were put in possession of such leading circumstances as were likely to prove useful in accomplishing their great and engrossing
object–the recovery of the sisters. The narrative
of David was simple, and the facts but few.
Magua had waited on the mountain until a
safe moment to retire presented itself, when
he had descended, and taken the route along
the western side of the Horican in direction of
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the Canadas. As the subtle Huron was familiar with the paths, and well knew there was
no immediate danger of pursuit, their progress
had been moderate, and far from fatiguing. It
appeared from the unembellished statement of
David, that his own presence had been rather
endured than desired; though even Magua had
not been entirely exempt from that veneration
with which the Indians regard those whom
the Great Spirit had visited in their intellects.
At night, the utmost care had been taken of
the captives, both to prevent injury from the
damps of the woods and to guard against an
escape. At the spring, the horses were turned
loose, as has been seen; and, notwithstanding
the remoteness and length of their trail, the artifices already named were resorted to, in order to cut off every clue to their place of retreat.
On their arrival at the encampment of his peo-
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ple, Magua, in obedience to a policy seldom departed from, separated his prisoners. Cora had
been sent to a tribe that temporarily occupied
an adjacent valley, though David was far too
ignorant of the customs and history of the natives, to be able to declare anything satisfactory
concerning their name or character. He only
knew that they had not engaged in the late expedition against William Henry; that, like the
Hurons themselves they were allies of Montcalm; and that they maintained an amicable,
though a watchful intercourse with the warlike and savage people whom chance had, for
a time, brought in such close and disagreeable
contact with themselves.
The Mohicans and the scout listened to his
interrupted and imperfect narrative, with an
interest that obviously increased as he pro-
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ceeded; and it was while attempting to explain the pursuits of the community in which
Cora was detained, that the latter abruptly demanded:
“Did you see the fashion of their knives?
were they of English or French formation?”
“My thoughts were bent on no such vanities,
but rather mingled in consolation with those of
the maidens.”
“The time may come when you will not consider the knife of a savage such a despicable
vanity,” returned the scout, with a strong expression of contempt for the other’s dullness.
“Had they held their corn feast–or can you say
anything of the totems of the tribe?”
“Of corn, we had many and plentiful feasts;
for the grain, being in the milk is both sweet to
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the mouth and comfortable to the stomach. Of
totem, I know not the meaning; but if it appertaineth in any wise to the art of Indian music, it
need not be inquired after at their hands. They
never join their voices in praise, and it would
seem that they are among the profanest of the
idolatrous.”
“Therein you belie the natur’ of an Indian.
Even the Mingo adores but the true and loving
God. ‘Tis wicked fabrication of the whites, and
I say it to the shame of my color that would
make the warrior bow down before images of
his own creation. It is true, they endeavor to
make truces to the wicked one–as who would
not with an enemy he cannot conquer! but they
look up for favor and assistance to the Great
and Good Spirit only.”
“It may be so,” said David; “but I have seen
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strange and fantastic images drawn in their
paint, of which their admiration and care savored of spiritual pride; especially one, and
that, too, a foul and loathsome object.”
“Was it a sarpent?” quickly demanded the
scout.
“Much the same. It was in the likeness of an
abject and creeping tortoise.”
“Hugh!” exclaimed both the attentive Mohicans in a breath; while the scout shook his
head with the air of one who had made an
important but by no means a pleasing discovery. Then the father spoke, in the language of
the Delawares, and with a calmness and dignity that instantly arrested the attention even of
those to whom his words were unintelligible.
His gestures were impressive, and at times energetic. Once he lifted his arm on high; and, as
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it descended, the action threw aside the folds of
his light mantle, a finger resting on his breast,
as if he would enforce his meaning by the attitude. Duncan’s eyes followed the movement,
and he perceived that the animal just mentioned was beautifully, though faintly, worked
in blue tint, on the swarthy breast of the chief.
All that he had ever heard of the violent separation of the vast tribes of the Delawares rushed
across his mind, and he awaited the proper moment to speak, with a suspense that was rendered nearly intolerable by his interest in the
stake. His wish, however, was anticipated by
the scout who turned from his red friend, saying:
“We have found that which may be good or
evil to us, as heaven disposes. The Sagamore is
of the high blood of the Delawares, and is the
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great chief of their Tortoises! That some of this
stock are among the people of whom the singer
tells us, is plain by his words; and, had he but
spent half the breath in prudent questions that
he has blown away in making a trumpet of his
throat, we might have known how many warriors they numbered. It is, altogether, a dangerous path we move in; for a friend whose face
is turned from you often bears a bloodier mind
than the enemy who seeks your scalp.”
“Explain,” said Duncan.
“‘Tis a long and melancholy tradition, and
one I little like to think of; for it is not to be denied that the evil has been mainly done by men
with white skins. But it has ended in turning
the tomahawk of brother against brother, and
brought the Mingo and the Delaware to travel
in the same path.”
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“You, then, suspect it is a portion of that people among whom Cora resides?”
The scout nodded his head in assent, though
he seemed anxious to waive the further discussion of a subject that appeared painful. The impatient Duncan now made several hasty and
desperate propositions to attempt the release of
the sisters. Munro seemed to shake off his apathy, and listened to the wild schemes of the
young man with a deference that his gray hairs
and reverend years should have denied. But
the scout, after suffering the ardor of the lover
to expend itself a little, found means to convince him of the folly of precipitation, in a manner that would require their coolest judgment
and utmost fortitude.
“It would be well,” he added, “to let this
man go in again, as usual, and for him to tarry
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in the lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of
our approach, until we call him out, by signal,
to consult. You know the cry of a crow, friend,
from the whistle of the whip-poor-will?”
“‘Tis a pleasing bird,” returned David, “and
has a soft and melancholy note! though the
time is rather quick and ill-measured.”
“He speaks of the wish-ton-wish,” said the
scout; “well, since you like his whistle, it shall
be your signal. Remember, then, when you
hear the whip-poor-will’s call three times repeated, you are to come into the bushes where
the bird might be supposed–”
“Stop,” interrupted Heyward; “I will accompany him.”
“You!” exclaimed the astonished Hawkeye;
“are you tired of seeing the sun rise and set?”
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“David is a living proof that the Hurons can
be merciful.”
“Ay, but David can use his throat, as no man
in his senses would pervart the gift.”
“I too can play the madman, the fool, the
hero; in short, any or everything to rescue her
I love. Name your objections no longer: I am
resolved.”
Hawkeye regarded the young man a moment in speechless amazement. But Duncan,
who, in deference to the other’s skill and services, had hitherto submitted somewhat implicitly to his dictation, now assumed the superior, with a manner that was not easily resisted.
He waved his hand, in sign of his dislike to all
remonstrance, and then, in more tempered language, he continued:
“You have the means of disguise; change me;
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paint me, too, if you will; in short, alter me to
anything–a fool.”
“It is not for one like me to say that he who
is already formed by so powerful a hand as
Providence, stands in need of a change,” muttered the discontented scout. “When you send
your parties abroad in war, you find it prudent, at least, to arrange the marks and places
of encampment, in order that they who fight on
your side may know when and where to expect
a friend.”
“Listen,” interrupted Duncan; “you have
heard from this faithful follower of the captives, that the Indians are of two tribes, if
not of different nations. With one, whom
you think to be a branch of the Delawares,
is she you call the ‘dark-hair’; the other, and
younger, of the ladies, is undeniably with our
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declared enemies, the Hurons. It becomes my
youth and rank to attempt the latter adventure.
While you, therefore, are negotiating with your
friends for the release of one of the sisters, I will
effect that of the other, or die.”
The awakened spirit of the young soldier
gleamed in his eyes, and his form became imposing under its influence. Hawkeye, though
too much accustomed to Indian artifices not to
foresee the danger of the experiment, knew not
well how to combat this sudden resolution.
Perhaps there was something in the proposal
that suited his own hardy nature, and that secret love of desperate adventure, which had increased with his experience, until hazard and
danger had become, in some measure, necessary to the enjoyment of his existence. Instead
of continuing to oppose the scheme of Duncan,
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his humor suddenly altered, and he lent himself to its execution.
“Come,” he said, with a good-humored
smile; “the buck that will take to the water
must be headed, and not followed. Chingachgook has as many different paints as the engineer officer’s wife, who takes down natur’
on scraps of paper, making the mountains look
like cocks of rusty hay, and placing the blue sky
in reach of your hand. The Sagamore can use
them, too. Seat yourself on the log; and my life
on it, he can soon make a natural fool of you,
and that well to your liking.”
Duncan complied; and the Mohican, who
had been an attentive listener to the discourse,
readily undertook the office. Long practised
in all the subtle arts of his race, he drew,
with great dexterity and quickness, the fantas-
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tic shadow that the natives were accustomed to
consider as the evidence of a friendly and jocular disposition. Every line that could possibly be interpreted into a secret inclination for
war, was carefully avoided; while, on the other
hand, he studied those conceits that might be
construed into amity.
In short, he entirely sacrificed every appearance of the warrior to the masquerade of a
buffoon. Such exhibitions were not uncommon among the Indians, and as Duncan was already sufficiently disguised in his dress, there
certainly did exist some reason for believing
that, with his knowledge of French, he might
pass for a juggler from Ticonderoga, straggling
among the allied and friendly tribes.
When he was thought to be sufficiently
painted, the scout gave him much friendly
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advice; concerted signals, and appointed the
place where they should meet, in the event of
mutual success. The parting between Munro
and his young friend was more melancholy;
still, the former submitted to the separation
with an indifference that his warm and honest
nature would never have permitted in a more
healthful state of mind. The scout led Heyward aside, and acquainted him with his intention to leave the veteran in some safe encampment, in charge of Chingachgook, while
he and Uncas pursued their inquires among
the people they had reason to believe were
Delawares. Then, renewing his cautions and
advice, he concluded by saying, with a solemnity and warmth of feeling, with which Duncan was deeply touched:
“And, now, God bless you! You have shown
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a spirit that I like; for it is the gift of youth,
more especially one of warm blood and a stout
heart. But believe the warning of a man who
has reason to know all he says to be true. You
will have occasion for your best manhood, and
for a sharper wit than what is to be gathered
in books, afore you outdo the cunning or get
the better of the courage of a Mingo. God bless
you! if the Hurons master your scalp, rely on
the promise of one who has two stout warriors
to back him. They shall pay for their victory,
with a life for every hair it holds. I say, young
gentleman, may Providence bless your undertaking, which is altogether for good; and, remember, that to outwit the knaves it is lawful
to practise things that may not be naturally the
gift of a white-skin.”
Duncan shook his worthy and reluctant as-
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sociate warmly by the hand, once more recommended his aged friend to his care, and returning his good wishes, he motioned to David
to proceed. Hawkeye gazed after the highspirited and adventurous young man for several moments, in open admiration; then, shaking his head doubtingly, he turned, and led his
own division of the party into the concealment
of the forest.
The route taken by Duncan and David lay
directly across the clearing of the beavers, and
along the margin of their pond.
When the former found himself alone with
one so simple, and so little qualified to render any assistance in desperate emergencies, he
first began to be sensible of the difficulties of
the task he had undertaken. The fading light
increased the gloominess of the bleak and sav-
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age wilderness that stretched so far on every
side of him, and there was even a fearful character in the stillness of those little huts, that he
knew were so abundantly peopled. It struck
him, as he gazed at the admirable structures
and the wonderful precautions of their sagacious inmates, that even the brutes of these vast
wilds were possessed of an instinct nearly commensurate with his own reason; and he could
not reflect, without anxiety, on the unequal
contest that he had so rashly courted. Then
came the glowing image of Alice; her distress;
her actual danger; and all the peril of his situation was forgotten. Cheering David, he moved
on with the light and vigorous step of youth
and enterprise.
After making nearly a semicircle around the
pond, they diverged from the water-course,
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and began to ascend to the level of a slight elevation in that bottom land, over which they
journeyed. Within half an hour they gained
the margin of another opening that bore all the
signs of having been also made by the beavers,
and which those sagacious animals had probably been induced, by some accident, to abandon, for the more eligible position they now occupied. A very natural sensation caused Duncan to hesitate a moment, unwilling to leave
the cover of their bushy path, as a man pauses
to collect his energies before he essays any hazardous experiment, in which he is secretly conscious they will all be needed. He profited by
the halt, to gather such information as might be
obtained from his short and hasty glances.
On the opposite side of the clearing, and near
the point where the brook tumbled over some
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rocks, from a still higher level, some fifty or
sixty lodges, rudely fabricated of logs brush,
and earth intermingled, were to be discovered.
They were arranged without any order, and
seemed to be constructed with very little attention to neatness or beauty. Indeed, so very inferior were they in the two latter particulars to
the village Duncan had just seen, that he began to expect a second surprise, no less astonishing that the former. This expectation was in
no degree diminished, when, by the doubtful
twilight, he beheld twenty or thirty forms rising alternately from the cover of the tall, coarse
grass, in front of the lodges, and then sinking
again from the sight, as it were to burrow in the
earth. By the sudden and hasty glimpses that
he caught of these figures, they seemed more
like dark, glancing specters, or some other unearthly beings, than creatures fashioned with
733
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the ordinary and vulgar materials of flesh and
blood. A gaunt, naked form was seen, for a
single instant, tossing its arms wildly in the
air, and then the spot it had filled was vacant;
the figure appearing suddenly in some other
and distant place, or being succeeded by another, possessing the same mysterious character. David, observing that his companion lingered, pursued the direction of his gaze, and in
some measure recalled the recollection of Heyward, by speaking.
“There is much fruitful soil uncultivated
here,” he said; “and, I may add, without the
sinful leaven of self-commendation, that, since
my short sojourn in these heathenish abodes,
much good seed has been scattered by the wayside.”
“The tribes are fonder of the chase than of
734
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the arts of men of labor,” returned the unconscious Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his
wonder.
“It is rather joy than labor to the spirit, to
lift up the voice in praise; but sadly do these
boys abuse their gifts. Rarely have I found any
of their age, on whom nature has so freely bestowed the elements of psalmody; and surely,
surely, there are none who neglect them more.
Three nights have I now tarried here, and three
several times have I assembled the urchins to
join in sacred song; and as often have they
responded to my efforts with whoopings and
howlings that have chilled my soul!”
“Of whom speak you?”
“Of those children of the devil, who waste
the precious moments in yonder idle antics.
Ah! the wholesome restraint of discipline is but
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little known among this self-abandoned people. In a country of birches, a rod is never
seen, and it ought not to appear a marvel in my
eyes, that the choicest blessings of Providence
are wasted in such cries as these.”
David closed his ears against the juvenile
pack, whose yell just then rang shrilly through
the forest; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl,
as in mockery of his own superstition, said
firmly:
“We will proceed.”
Without removing the safeguards form his
ears, the master of song complied, and together
they pursued their way toward what David
was sometimes wont to call the “tents of the
Philistines.”
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“But though the beast of game
The privilege of chase may claim;
Though space and law the stag we
lend
Ere hound we slip, or bow we
bend;
Whoever recked, where, how, or
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when
The prowling fox was trapped or
slain?”
–Lady of the Lake.
IT IS UNUSUAL to find an encampment of
the natives, like those of the more instructed
whites, guarded by the presence of armed men.
Well informed of the approach of every danger,
while it is yet at a distance, the Indian generally
rests secure under his knowledge of the signs
of the forest, and the long and difficult paths
that separate him from those he has most reason to dread. But the enemy who, by any lucky
concurrence of accidents, has found means to
elude the vigilance of the scouts, will seldom
meet with sentinels nearer home to sound the
alarm. In addition to this general usage, the
tribes friendly to the French knew too well the
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CHAPTER 23
weight of the blow that had just been struck,
to apprehend any immediate danger from the
hostile nations that were tributary to the crown
of Britain.
When Duncan and David, therefore, found
themselves in the center of the children, who
played the antics already mentioned, it was
without the least previous intimation of their
approach. But so soon as they were observed
the whole of the juvenile pack raised, by common consent, a shrill and warning whoop; and
then sank, as it were, by magic, from before the
sight of their visitors. The naked, tawny bodies of the crouching urchins blended so nicely
at that hour, with the withered herbage, that at
first it seemed as if the earth had, in truth, swallowed up their forms; though when surprise
permitted Duncan to bend his look more cu-
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CHAPTER 23
riously about the spot, he found it everywhere
met by dark, quick, and rolling eyeballs.
Gathering no encouragement from this
startling presage of the nature of the scrutiny
he was likely to undergo from the more mature judgments of the men, there was an instant when the young soldier would have retreated. It was, however, too late to appear to
hesitate. The cry of the children had drawn
a dozen warriors to the door of the nearest
lodge, where they stood clustered in a dark and
savage group, gravely awaiting the nearer approach of those who had unexpectedly come
among them.
David, in some measure familiarized to the
scene, led the way with a steadiness that no
slight obstacle was likely to disconcert, into this
very building. It was the principal edifice of the
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village, though roughly constructed of the bark
and branches of trees; being the lodge in which
the tribe held its councils and public meetings
during their temporary residence on the borders of the English province. Duncan found it
difficult to assume the necessary appearance of
unconcern, as he brushed the dark and powerful frames of the savages who thronged its
threshold; but, conscious that his existence depended on his presence of mind, he trusted to
the discretion of his companion, whose footsteps he closely followed, endeavoring, as he
proceeded, to rally his thoughts for the occasion. His blood curdled when he found himself in absolute contact with such fierce and implacable enemies; but he so far mastered his
feelings as to pursue his way into the center of
the lodge, with an exterior that did not betray
the weakness. Imitating the example of the de-
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liberate Gamut, he drew a bundle of fragrant
brush from beneath a pile that filled the corner
of the hut, and seated himself in silence.
So soon as their visitor had passed, the observant warriors fell back from the entrance,
and arranging themselves about him, they
seemed patiently to await the moment when it
might comport with the dignity of the stranger
to speak. By far the greater number stood leaning, in lazy, lounging attitudes, against the upright posts that supported the crazy building,
while three or four of the oldest and most distinguished of the chiefs placed themselves on
the earth a little more in advance.
A flaring torch was burning in the place, and
set its red glare from face to face and figure to
figure, as it waved in the currents of air. Duncan profited by its light to read the probable
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character of his reception, in the countenances
of his hosts. But his ingenuity availed him little, against the cold artifices of the people he
had encountered. The chiefs in front scarce cast
a glance at his person, keeping their eyes on
the ground, with an air that might have been
intended for respect, but which it was quite
easy to construe into distrust. The men in the
shadow were less reserved. Duncan soon detected their searching, but stolen, looks which,
in truth, scanned his person and attire inch by
inch; leaving no emotion of the countenance,
no gesture, no line of the paint, nor even the
fashion of a garment, unheeded, and without
comment.
At length one whose hair was beginning
to be sprinkled with gray, but whose sinewy
limbs and firm tread announced that he was
743
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still equal to the duties of manhood, advanced
out of the gloom of a corner, whither he had
probably posted himself to make his observations unseen, and spoke. He used the language of the Wyandots, or Hurons; his words
were, consequently, unintelligible to Heyward,
though they seemed, by the gestures that accompanied them, to be uttered more in courtesy than anger. The latter shook his head, and
made a gesture indicative of his inability to reply.
“Do none of my brothers speak the French or
the English?” he said, in the former language,
looking about him from countenance to countenance, in hopes of finding a nod of assent.
Though more than one had turned, as if to
catch the meaning of his words, they remained
unanswered.
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“I should be grieved to think,” continued
Duncan, speaking slowly, and using the simplest French of which he was the master, “to
believe that none of this wise and brave nation understand the language that the ‘Grand
Monarque’ uses when he talks to his children.
His heart would be heavy did he believe his red
warriors paid him so little respect!”
A long and grave pause succeeded, during
which no movement of a limb, nor any expression of an eye, betrayed the expression produced by his remark. Duncan, who knew that
silence was a virtue among his hosts, gladly
had recourse to the custom, in order to arrange
his ideas. At length the same warrior who
had before addressed him replied, by dryly demanding, in the language of the Canadas:
“When our Great Father speaks to his peo-
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ple, is it with the tongue of a Huron?”
“He knows no difference in his children,
whether the color of the skin be red, or black, or
white,” returned Duncan, evasively; “though
chiefly is he satisfied with the brave Hurons.”
“In what manner will he speak,” demanded
the wary chief, “when the runners count to him
the scalps which five nights ago grew on the
heads of the Yengeese?”
“They were his enemies,” said Duncan,
shuddering involuntarily; “and doubtless, he
will say, it is good; my Hurons are very gallant.”
“Our Canada father does not think it. Instead of looking forward to reward his Indians,
his eyes are turned backward. He sees the dead
Yengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean?”
746
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“A great chief, like him, has more thoughts
than tongues. He looks to see that no enemies
are on his trail.”
“The canoe of a dead warrior will not float
on the Horican,” returned the savage, gloomily.
“His ears are open to the Delawares, who are
not our friends, and they fill them with lies.”
“It cannot be. See; he has bid me, who am a
man that knows the art of healing, to go to his
children, the red Hurons of the great lakes, and
ask if any are sick!”
Another silence succeeded this annunciation
of the character Duncan had assumed. Every
eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as
if to inquire into the truth or falsehood of the
declaration, with an intelligence and keenness
that caused the subject of their scrutiny to tremble for the result. He was, however, relieved
747
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again by the former speaker.
“Do the cunning men of the Canadas paint
their skins?” the Huron coldly continued; “we
have heard them boast that their faces were
pale.”
“When an Indian chief comes among his
white fathers,” returned Duncan, with great
steadiness, “he lays aside his buffalo robe, to
carry the shirt that is offered him. My brothers
have given me paint and I wear it.”
A low murmur of applause announced that
the compliment of the tribe was favorably received. The elderly chief made a gesture of
commendation, which was answered by most
of his companions, who each threw forth a
hand and uttered a brief exclamation of pleasure. Duncan began to breathe more freely, believing that the weight of his examination was
748
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past; and, as he had already prepared a simple and probable tale to support his pretended
occupation, his hopes of ultimate success grew
brighter.
After a silence of a few moments, as if adjusting his thoughts, in order to make a suitable answer to the declaration their guests had
just given, another warrior arose, and placed
himself in an attitude to speak. While his lips
were yet in the act of parting, a low but fearful sound arose from the forest, and was immediately succeeded by a high, shrill yell, that
was drawn out, until it equaled the longest
and most plaintive howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible interruption caused Duncan to
start from his seat, unconscious of everything
but the effect produced by so frightful a cry.
At the same moment, the warriors glided in
749
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a body from the lodge, and the outer air was
filled with loud shouts, that nearly drowned
those awful sounds, which were still ringing
beneath the arches of the woods. Unable to
command himself any longer, the youth broke
from the place, and presently stood in the center of a disorderly throng, that included nearly
everything having life, within the limits of the
encampment. Men, women, and children; the
aged, the inform, the active, and the strong,
were alike abroad, some exclaiming aloud, others clapping their hands with a joy that seemed
frantic, and all expressing their savage pleasure
in some unexpected event. Though astounded,
at first, by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its solution by the scene that followed.
There yet lingered sufficient light in the
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heavens to exhibit those bright openings
among the tree-tops, where different paths left
the clearing to enter the depths of the wilderness. Beneath one of them, a line of warriors issued from the woods, and advanced
slowly toward the dwellings. One in front bore
a short pole, on which, as it afterwards appeared, were suspended several human scalps.
The startling sounds that Duncan had heard
were what the whites have not inappropriately
called the “death-hallo”; and each repetition of
the cry was intended to announce to the tribe
the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge
of Heyward assisted him in the explanation;
and as he now knew that the interruption was
caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful war-party, every disagreeable sensation
was quieted in inward congratulation, for the
opportune relief and insignificance it conferred
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on himself.
When at the distance of a few hundred feet
from the lodges the newly arrived warriors
halted. Their plaintive and terrific cry, which
was intended to represent equally the wailings
of the dead and the triumph to the victors,
had entirely ceased. One of their number now
called aloud, in words that were far from appalling, though not more intelligible to those
for whose ears they were intended, than their
expressive yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable idea of the savage ecstasy with
which the news thus imparted was received.
The whole encampment, in a moment, became
a scene of the most violent bustle and commotion. The warriors drew their knives, and
flourishing them, they arranged themselves in
two lines, forming a lane that extended from
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the war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized
clubs, axes, or whatever weapon of offense first
offered itself to their hands, and rushed eagerly to act their part in the cruel game that
was at hand. Even the children would not be
excluded; but boys, little able to wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from the belts
of their fathers, and stole into the ranks, apt
imitators of the savage traits exhibited by their
parents.
Large piles of brush lay scattered about the
clearing, and a wary and aged squaw was occupied in firing as many as might serve to light
the coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its
power exceeded that of the parting day, and assisted to render objects at the same time more
distinct and more hideous. The whole scene
formed a striking picture, whose frame was
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composed of the dark and tall border of pines.
The warriors just arrived were the most distant figures. A little in advance stood two men,
who were apparently selected from the rest,
as the principal actors in what was to follow.
The light was not strong enough to render their
features distinct, though it was quite evident
that they were governed by very different emotions. While one stood erect and firm, prepared
to meet his fate like a hero, the other bowed
his head, as if palsied by terror or stricken with
shame. The high-spirited Duncan felt a powerful impulse of admiration and pity toward
the former, though no opportunity could offer
to exhibit his generous emotions. He watched
his slightest movement, however, with eager
eyes; and, as he traced the fine outline of his
admirably proportioned and active frame, he
endeavored to persuade himself, that, if the
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powers of man, seconded by such noble resolution, could bear one harmless through so
severe a trial, the youthful captive before him
might hope for success in the hazardous race
he was about to run. Insensibly the young man
drew nigher to the swarthy lines of the Hurons,
and scarcely breathed, so intense became his
interest in the spectacle. Just then the signal
yell was given, and the momentary quiet which
had preceded it was broken by a burst of cries,
that far exceeded any before heard. The more
abject of the two victims continued motionless;
but the other bounded from the place at the cry,
with the activity and swiftness of a deer. Instead of rushing through the hostile lines, as
had been expected, he just entered the dangerous defile, and before time was given for a single blow, turned short, and leaping the heads of
a row of children, he gained at once the exterior
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and safer side of the formidable array. The artifice was answered by a hundred voices raised
in imprecations; and the whole of the excited
multitude broke from their order, and spread
themselves about the place in wild confusion.
A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid
brightness on the place, which resembled some
unhallowed and supernatural arena, in which
malicious demons had assembled to act their
bloody and lawless rites. The forms in the
background looked like unearthly beings, gliding before the eye, and cleaving the air with
frantic and unmeaning gestures; while the savage passions of such as passed the flames were
rendered fearfully distinct by the gleams that
shot athwart their inflamed visages.
It will easily be understood that, amid such
a concourse of vindictive enemies, no breath-
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ing time was allowed the fugitive. There was a
single moment when it seemed as if he would
have reached the forest, but the whole body of
his captors threw themselves before him, and
drove him back into the center of his relentless persecutors. Turning like a headed deer, he
shot, with the swiftness of an arrow, through a
pillar of forked flame, and passing the whole
multitude harmless, he appeared on the opposite side of the clearing. Here, too, he was
met and turned by a few of the older and more
subtle of the Hurons. Once more he tried the
throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness,
and then several moments succeeded, during
which Duncan believed the active and courageous young stranger was lost.
Nothing could be distinguished but a dark
mass of human forms tossed and involved
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in inexplicable confusion. Arms, gleaming
knives, and formidable clubs, appeared above
them, but the blows were evidently given at
random. The awful effect was heightened by
the piercing shrieks of the women and the
fierce yells of the warriors. Now and then Duncan caught a glimpse of a light form cleaving
the air in some desperate bound, and he rather
hoped than believed that the captive yet retained the command of his astonishing powers of activity. Suddenly the multitude rolled
backward, and approached the spot where he
himself stood. The heavy body in the rear
pressed upon the women and children in front,
and bore them to the earth. The stranger reappeared in the confusion. Human power could
not, however, much longer endure so severe
a trial. Of this the captive seemed conscious.
Profiting by the momentary opening, he darted
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from among the warriors, and made a desperate, and what seemed to Duncan a final effort
to gain the wood. As if aware that no danger
was to be apprehended from the young soldier,
the fugitive nearly brushed his person in his
flight. A tall and powerful Huron, who had
husbanded his forces, pressed close upon his
heels, and with an uplifted arm menaced a fatal
blow. Duncan thrust forth a foot, and the shock
precipitated the eager savage headlong, many
feet in advance of his intended victim. Thought
itself is not quicker than was the motion with
which the latter profited by the advantage; he
turned, gleamed like a meteor again before the
eyes of Duncan, and, at the next moment, when
the latter recovered his recollection, and gazed
around in quest of the captive, he saw him quietly leaning against a small painted post, which
stood before the door of the principal lodge.
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Apprehensive that the part he had taken
in the escape might prove fatal to himself,
Duncan left the place without delay. He followed the crowd, which drew nigh the lodges,
gloomy and sullen, like any other multitude
that had been disappointed in an execution.
Curiosity, or perhaps a better feeling, induced
him to approach the stranger. He found him,
standing with one arm cast about the protecting post, and breathing thick and hard, after
his exertions, but disdaining to permit a single sign of suffering to escape. His person was
now protected by immemorial and sacred usage, until the tribe in council had deliberated
and determined on his fate. It was not difficult,
however, to foretell the result, if any presage
could be drawn from the feelings of those who
crowded the place.
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There was no term of abuse known to
the Huron vocabulary that the disappointed
women did not lavishly expend on the successful stranger. They flouted at his efforts,
and told him, with bitter scoffs, that his feet
were better than his hands; and that he merited wings, while he knew not the use of an
arrow or a knife. To all this the captive made
no reply; but was content to preserve an attitude in which dignity was singularly blended
with disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure as by his good-fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were succeeded by
shrill, piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw,
who had taken the necessary precaution to fire
the piles, made her way through the throng,
and cleared a place for herself in front of the
captive. The squalid and withered person of
this hag might well have obtained for her the
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character of possessing more than human cunning. Throwing back her light vestment, she
stretched forth her long, skinny arm, in derision, and using the language of the Lenape, as
more intelligible to the subject of her gibes, she
commenced aloud:
“Look you, Delaware,” she said, snapping
her fingers in his face; “your nation is a race
of women, and the hoe is better fitted to your
hands than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of deer; but if a bear, or a wildcat, or a serpent were born among you, ye would flee. The
Huron girls shall make you petticoats, and we
will find you a husband.”
A burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during which the soft and musical merriment of the younger females strangely chimed
with the cracked voice of their older and more
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malignant companion. But the stranger was
superior to all their efforts. His head was immovable; nor did he betray the slightest consciousness that any were present, except when
his haughty eye rolled toward the dusky forms
of the warriors, who stalked in the background
silent and sullen observers of the scene.
Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman placed her arms akimbo; and,
throwing herself into a posture of defiance, she
broke out anew, in a torrent of words that no
art of ours could commit successfully to paper. Her breath was, however, expended in
vain; for, although distinguished in her nation
as a proficient in the art of abuse, she was
permitted to work herself into such a fury as
actually to foam at the mouth, without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless fig-
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ure of the stranger. The effect of his indifference began to extend itself to the other spectators; and a youngster, who was just quitting
the condition of a boy to enter the state of manhood, attempted to assist the termagant, by
flourishing his tomahawk before their victim,
and adding his empty boasts to the taunts of
the women. Then, indeed, the captive turned
his face toward the light, and looked down on
the stripling with an expression that was superior to contempt. At the next moment he resumed his quiet and reclining attitude against
the post. But the change of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the firm
and piercing eyes of Uncas.
Breathless with amazement, and heavily oppressed with the critical situation of his friend,
Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling
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lest its meaning might, in some unknown manner, hasten the prisoner’s fate. There was not,
however, any instant cause for such an apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his way
into the exasperated crowd. Motioning the
women and children aside with a stern gesture,
he took Uncas by the arm, and led him toward
the door of the council-lodge. Thither all the
chiefs, and most of the distinguished warriors,
followed; among whom the anxious Heyward
found means to enter without attracting any
dangerous attention to himself.
A few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present in a manner suitable to
their rank and influence in the tribe. An order very similar to that adopted in the preceding interview was observed; the aged and
superior chiefs occupying the area of the spa-
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cious apartment, within the powerful light of a
glaring torch, while their juniors and inferiors
were arranged in the background, presenting a
dark outline of swarthy and marked visages.
In the very center of the lodge, immediately
under an opening that admitted the twinkling
light of one or two stars, stood Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and haughty
carriage was not lost on his captors, who often
bent their looks on his person, with eyes which,
while they lost none of their inflexibility of purpose, plainly betrayed their admiration of the
stranger’s daring.
The case was different with the individual
whom Duncan had observed to stand forth
with his friend, previously to the desperate
trial of speed; and who, instead of joining in
the chase, had remained, throughout its turbu-
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lent uproar, like a cringing statue, expressive of
shame and disgrace. Though not a hand had
been extended to greet him, nor yet an eye had
condescended to watch his movements, he had
also entered the lodge, as though impelled by a
fate to whose decrees he submitted, seemingly,
without a struggle. Heyward profited by the
first opportunity to gaze in his face, secretly
apprehensive he might find the features of another acquaintance; but they proved to be those
of a stranger, and, what was still more inexplicable, of one who bore all the distinctive marks
of a Huron warrior. Instead of mingling with
his tribe, however, he sat apart, a solitary being in a multitude, his form shrinking into a
crouching and abject attitude, as if anxious to
fill as little space as possible. When each individual had taken his proper station, and silence
reigned in the place, the gray-haired chief al-
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ready introduced to the reader, spoke aloud, in
the language of the Lenni Lenape.
“Delaware,” he said, “though one of a nation
of women, you have proved yourself a man. I
would give you food; but he who eats with a
Huron should become his friend. Rest in peace
till the morning sun, when our last words shall
be spoken.”
“Seven nights, and as many summer days,
have I fasted on the trail of the Hurons,” Uncas coldly replied; “the children of the Lenape
know how to travel the path of the just without
lingering to eat.”
“Two of my young men are in pursuit of
your companion,” resumed the other, without
appearing to regard the boast of his captive;
“when they get back, then will our wise man
say to you ‘live’ or ‘die’.”
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“Has a Huron no ears?” scornfully exclaimed Uncas; “twice, since he has been your
prisoner, has the Delaware heard a gun that
he knows. Your young men will never come
back!”
A short and sullen pause succeeded this bold
assertion. Duncan, who understood the Mohican to allude to the fatal rifle of the scout, bent
forward in earnest observation of the effect it
might produce on the conquerors; but the chief
was content with simply retorting:
“If the Lenape are so skillful, why is one of
their bravest warriors here?”
“He followed in the steps of a flying coward,
and fell into a snare. The cunning beaver may
be caught.”
As Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his
finger toward the solitary Huron, but without
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deigning to bestow any other notice on so unworthy an object. The words of the answer and
the air of the speaker produced a strong sensation among his auditors. Every eye rolled
sullenly toward the individual indicated by the
simple gesture, and a low, threatening murmur passed through the crowd. The ominous
sounds reached the outer door, and the women
and children pressing into the throng, no gap
had been left, between shoulder and shoulder,
that was not now filled with the dark lineaments of some eager and curious human countenance.
In the meantime, the more aged chiefs, in the
center, communed with each other in short and
broken sentences. Not a word was uttered that
did not convey the meaning of the speaker, in
the simplest and most energetic form. Again,
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a long and deeply solemn pause took place.
It was known, by all present, to be the brave
precursor of a weighty and important judgment. They who composed the outer circle of
faces were on tiptoe to gaze; and even the culprit for an instant forgot his shame in a deeper
emotion, and exposed his abject features, in
order to cast an anxious and troubled glance
at the dark assemblage of chiefs. The silence
was finally broken by the aged warrior so often
named. He arose from the earth, and moving
past the immovable form of Uncas, placed himself in a dignified attitude before the offender.
At that moment, the withered squaw already
mentioned moved into the circle, in a slow,
sidling sort of a dance, holding the torch, and
muttering the indistinct words of what might
have been a species of incantation. Though
her presence was altogether an intrusion, it was
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unheeded.
Approaching Uncas, she held the blazing
brand in such a manner as to cast its red glare
on his person, and to expose the slightest emotion of his countenance. The Mohican maintained his firm and haughty attitude; and his
eyes, so far from deigning to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt steadily on the distance, as
though it penetrated the obstacles which impeded the view and looked into futurity. Satisfied with her examination, she left him, with
a slight expression of pleasure, and proceeded
to practise the same trying experiment on her
delinquent countryman.
The young Huron was in his war paint, and
very little of a finely molded form was concealed by his attire. The light rendered every limb and joint discernible, and Duncan
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turned away in horror when he saw they were
writhing in irrepressible agony. The woman
was commencing a low and plaintive howl at
the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief
put forth his hand and gently pushed her aside.
“Reed-that-bends,” he said, addressing the
young culprit by name, and in his proper language, “though the Great Spirit has made you
pleasant to the eyes, it would have been better that you had not been born. Your tongue is
loud in the village, but in battle it is still. None
of my young men strike the tomahawk deeper
into the war-post–none of them so lightly on
the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of
your back, but they have never seen the color of
your eyes. Three times have they called on you
to come, and as often did you forget to answer.
Your name will never be mentioned again in
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your tribe–it is already forgotten.”
As the chief slowly uttered these words,
pausing impressively between each sentence,
the culprit raised his face, in deference to the
other’s rank and years. Shame, horror, and
pride struggled in its lineaments. His eye,
which was contracted with inward anguish,
gleamed on the persons of those whose breath
was his fame; and the latter emotion for an instant predominated. He arose to his feet, and
baring his bosom, looked steadily on the keen,
glittering knife, that was already upheld by
his inexorable judge. As the weapon passed
slowly into his heart he even smiled, as if in
joy at having found death less dreadful than he
had anticipated, and fell heavily on his face, at
the feet of the rigid and unyielding form of Uncas.
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The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell,
dashed the torch to the earth, and buried everything in darkness. The whole shuddering
group of spectators glided from the lodge like
troubled sprites; and Duncan thought that he
and the yet throbbing body of the victim of an
Indian judgment had now become its only tenants.
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“Thus spoke the sage: the kings
without delay
Dissolve the council, and their
chief obey.”
–Pope’s Iliad
A SINGLE MOMENT served to convince the
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youth that he was mistaken. A hand was laid,
with a powerful pressure, on his arm, and the
low voice of Uncas muttered in his ear:
“The Hurons are dogs. The sight of a coward’s blood can never make a warrior tremble.
The ‘Gray Head’ and the Sagamore are safe,
and the rifle of Hawkeye is not asleep. Go–
Uncas and the ‘Open Hand’ are now strangers.
It is enough.”
Heyward would gladly have heard more,
but a gentle push from his friend urged him
toward the door, and admonished him of the
danger that might attend the discovery of their
intercourse. Slowly and reluctantly yielding to
the necessity, he quitted the place, and mingled
with the throng that hovered nigh. The dying
fires in the clearing cast a dim and uncertain
light on the dusky figures that were silently
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stalking to and fro; and occasionally a brighter
gleam than common glanced into the lodge,
and exhibited the figure of Uncas still maintaining its upright attitude near the dead body
of the Huron.
A knot of warriors soon entered the place
again, and reissuing, they bore the senseless
remains into the adjacent woods. After this
termination of the scene, Duncan wandered
among the lodges, unquestioned and unnoticed, endeavoring to find some trace of her in
whose behalf he incurred the risk he ran. In
the present temper of the tribe it would have
been easy to have fled and rejoined his companions, had such a wish crossed his mind.
But, in addition to the never-ceasing anxiety on
account of Alice, a fresher though feebler interest in the fate of Uncas assisted to chain him to
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the spot. He continued, therefore, to stray from
hut to hut, looking into each only to encounter
additional disappointment, until he had made
the entire circuit of the village. Abandoning a
species of inquiry that proved so fruitless, he
retraced his steps to the council-lodge, resolved
to seek and question David, in order to put an
end to his doubts.
On reaching the building, which had proved
alike the seat of judgment and the place of execution, the young man found that the excitement had already subsided. The warriors had
reassembled, and were now calmly smoking,
while they conversed gravely on the chief incidents of their recent expedition to the head
of the Horican. Though the return of Duncan was likely to remind them of his character,
and the suspicious circumstances of his visit, it
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produced no visible sensation. So far, the terrible scene that had just occurred proved favorable to his views, and he required no other
prompter than his own feelings to convince
him of the expediency of profiting by so unexpected an advantage.
Without seeming to hesitate, he walked into
the lodge, and took his seat with a gravity
that accorded admirably with the deportment
of his hosts. A hasty but searching glance sufficed to tell him that, though Uncas still remained where he had left him, David had not
reappeared. No other restraint was imposed
on the former than the watchful looks of a
young Huron, who had placed himself at hand;
though an armed warrior leaned against the
post that formed one side of the narrow doorway. In every other respect, the captive seemed
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at liberty; still he was excluded from all participation in the discourse, and possessed much
more of the air of some finely molded statue
than a man having life and volition.
Heyward had too recently witnessed a
frightful instance of the prompt punishments
of the people into whose hands he had fallen
to hazard an exposure by any officious boldness. He would greatly have preferred silence
and meditation to speech, when a discovery of
his real condition might prove so instantly fatal. Unfortunately for this prudent resolution,
his entertainers appeared otherwise disposed.
He had not long occupied the seat wisely taken
a little in the shade, when another of the elder
warriors, who spoke the French language, addressed him:
“My Canada father does not forget his chil-
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dren,” said the chief; “I thank him. An evil
spirit lives in the wife of one of my young men.
Can the cunning stranger frighten him away?”
Heyward possessed some knowledge of the
mummery practised among the Indians, in the
cases of such supposed visitations. He saw, at
a glance, that the circumstance might possibly
be improved to further his own ends. It would,
therefore, have been difficult, just then to have
uttered a proposal that would have given him
more satisfaction. Aware of the necessity of
preserving the dignity of his imaginary character, however, he repressed his feelings, and
answered with suitable mystery:
“Spirits differ; some yield to the power of
wisdom, while others are too strong.”
“My brother is a great medicine,” said the
cunning savage; “he will try?”
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A gesture of assent was the answer. The
Huron was content with the assurance, and, resuming his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to move. The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating the cold customs of the savages, which required such sacrifices to appearance, was fain to assume an air of indifference, equal to that maintained by the chief,
who was, in truth, a near relative of the afflicted
woman. The minutes lingered, and the delay
had seemed an hour to the adventurer in empiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe
and drew his robe across his breast, as if about
to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid. Just
then, a warrior of powerful frame, darkened
the door, and stalking silently among the attentive group, he seated himself on one end of
the low pile of brush which sustained Duncan.
The latter cast an impatient look at his neigh-
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bor, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable
horror when he found himself in actual contact
with Magua.
The sudden return of this artful and dreaded
chief caused a delay in the departure of the
Huron. Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were lighted again; while the newcomer, without speaking a word, drew his tomahawk from his girdle, and filling the bowl on
its head began to inhale the vapors of the weed
through the hollow handle, with as much indifference as if he had not been absent two weary
days on a long and toilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many ages to Duncan,
might have passed in this manner; and the warriors were fairly enveloped in a cloud of white
smoke before any of them spoke.
“Welcome!” one at length uttered; “has my
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friend found the moose?”
“The young men stagger under their burdens,” returned Magua.
“Let ‘Reed-thatbends’ go on the hunting path; he will meet
them.”
A deep and awful silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name. Each pipe
dropped from the lips of its owner as though
all had inhaled an impurity at the same instant.
The smoke wreathed above their heads in little eddies, and curling in a spiral form it ascended swiftly through the opening in the roof
of the lodge, leaving the place beneath clear of
its fumes, and each dark visage distinctly visible. The looks of most of the warriors were riveted on the earth; though a few of the younger
and less gifted of the party suffered their wild
and glaring eyeballs to roll in the direction of
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a white-headed savage, who sat between two
of the most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There
was nothing in the air or attire of this Indian
that would seem to entitle him to such a distinction. The former was rather depressed,
than remarkable for the bearing of the natives;
and the latter was such as was commonly worn
by the ordinary men of the nation. Like most
around him for more than a minute his look,
too, was on the ground; but, trusting his eyes
at length to steal a glance aside, he perceived
that he was becoming an object of general attention. Then he arose and lifted his voice in
the general silence.
“It was a lie,” he said; “I had no son. He
who was called by that name is forgotten; his
blood was pale, and it came not from the veins
of a Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my
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squaw. The Great Spirit has said, that the family of Wiss-entush should end; he is happy who
knows that the evil of his race dies with himself. I have done.”
The speaker, who was the father of the recreant young Indian, looked round and about
him, as if seeking commendation of his stoicism in the eyes of the auditors. But the stern
customs of his people had made too severe an
exaction of the feeble old man. The expression
of his eye contradicted his figurative and boastful language, while every muscle in his wrinkled visage was working with anguish. Standing a single minute to enjoy his bitter triumph,
he turned away, as if sickening at the gaze of
men, and, veiling his face in his blanket, he
walked from the lodge with the noiseless step
of an Indian seeking, in the privacy of his own
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abode, the sympathy of one like himself, aged,
forlorn and childless.
The Indians, who believe in the hereditary
transmission of virtues and defects in character, suffered him to depart in silence. Then,
with an elevation of breeding that many in
a more cultivated state of society might profitably emulate, one of the chiefs drew the attention of the young men from the weakness
they had just witnessed, by saying, in a cheerful voice, addressing himself in courtesy to
Magua, as the newest comer:
“The Delawares have been like bears after
the honey pots, prowling around my village.
But who has ever found a Huron asleep?”
The darkness of the impending cloud which
precedes a burst of thunder was not blacker
than the brow of Magua as he exclaimed:
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“The Delawares of the Lakes!”
“Not so. They who wear the petticoats of
squaws, on their own river. One of them has
been passing the tribe.”
“Did my young men take his scalp?”
“His legs were good, though his arm is better for the hoe than the tomahawk,” returned
the other, pointing to the immovable form of
Uncas.
Instead of manifesting any womanish curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight of a
captive from a people he was known to have
so much reason to hate, Magua continued to
smoke, with the meditative air that he usually
maintained, when there was no immediate call
on his cunning or his eloquence. Although secretly amazed at the facts communicated by the
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speech of the aged father, he permitted himself
to ask no questions, reserving his inquiries for a
more suitable moment. It was only after a sufficient interval that he shook the ashes from his
pipe, replaced the tomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, casting for the first time a glance
in the direction of the prisoner, who stood a
little behind him. The wary, though seemingly abstracted Uncas, caught a glimpse of the
movement, and turning suddenly to the light,
their looks met. Near a minute these two bold
and untamed spirits stood regarding one another steadily in the eye, neither quailing in the
least before the fierce gaze he encountered. The
form of Uncas dilated, and his nostrils opened
like those of a tiger at bay; but so rigid and unyielding was his posture, that he might easily
have been converted by the imagination into
an exquisite and faultless representation of the
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warlike deity of his tribe. The lineaments of the
quivering features of Magua proved more ductile; his countenance gradually lost its character of defiance in an expression of ferocious joy,
and heaving a breath from the very bottom of
his chest, he pronounced aloud the formidable
name of:
“Le Cerf Agile!”
Each warrior sprang upon his feet at the
utterance of the well-known appellation, and
there was a short period during which the stoical constancy of the natives was completely
conquered by surprise. The hated and yet respected name was repeated as by one voice,
carrying the sound even beyond the limits of
the lodge. The women and children, who lingered around the entrance, took up the words
in an echo, which was succeeded by another
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shrill and plaintive howl. The latter was not yet
ended, when the sensation among the men had
entirely abated. Each one in presence seated
himself, as though ashamed of his precipitation; but it was many minutes before their
meaning eyes ceased to roll toward their captive, in curious examination of a warrior who
had so often proved his prowess on the best
and proudest of their nation. Uncas enjoyed his
victory, but was content with merely exhibiting his triumph by a quiet smile–an emblem of
scorn which belongs to all time and every nation.
Magua caught the expression, and raising
his arm, he shook it at the captive, the light silver ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling
with the trembling agitation of the limb, as, in
a tone of vengeance, he exclaimed, in English:
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“Mohican, you die!”
“The healing waters will never bring the
dead Hurons to life,” returned Uncas, in the
music of the Delawares; “the tumbling river
washes their bones; their men are squaws: their
women owls. Go! call together the Huron
dogs, that they may look upon a warrior, My
nostrils are offended; they scent the blood of a
coward.”
The latter allusion struck deep, and the injury rankled. Many of the Hurons understood
the strange tongue in which the captive spoke,
among which number was Magua. This cunning savage beheld, and instantly profited by
his advantage. Dropping the light robe of skin
from his shoulder, he stretched forth his arm,
and commenced a burst of his dangerous and
artful eloquence. However much his influence
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among his people had been impaired by his
occasional and besetting weakness, as well as
by his desertion of the tribe, his courage and
his fame as an orator were undeniable. He
never spoke without auditors, and rarely without making converts to his opinions. On the
present occasion, his native powers were stimulated by the thirst of revenge.
He again recounted the events of the attack
on the island at Glenn’s, the death of his associates and the escape of their most formidable
enemies. Then he described the nature and position of the mount whither he had led such
captives as had fallen into their hands. Of
his own bloody intentions toward the maidens,
and of his baffled malice he made no mention,
but passed rapidly on to the surprise of the
party by “La Longue Carabine,” and its fatal
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termination. Here he paused, and looked about
him, in affected veneration for the departed,
but, in truth, to note the effect of his opening
narrative. As usual, every eye was riveted on
his face. Each dusky figure seemed a breathing statue, so motionless was the posture, so
intense the attention of the individual.
Then Magua dropped his voice which had
hitherto been clear, strong and elevated, and
touched upon the merits of the dead. No quality that was likely to command the sympathy of an Indian escaped his notice. One had
never been known to follow the chase in vain;
another had been indefatigable on the trail of
their enemies. This was brave, that generous.
In short, he so managed his allusions, that in a
nation which was composed of so few families,
he contrived to strike every chord that might
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find, in its turn, some breast in which to vibrate.
“Are the bones of my young men,” he concluded, “in the burial-place of the Hurons? You
know they are not. Their spirits are gone toward the setting sun, and are already crossing the great waters, to the happy huntinggrounds. But they departed without food,
without guns or knives, without moccasins,
naked and poor as they were born. Shall this
be? Are their souls to enter the land of the just
like hungry Iroquois or unmanly Delawares, or
shall they meet their friends with arms in their
hands and robes on their backs? What will
our fathers think the tribes of the Wyandots
have become? They will look on their children
with a dark eye, and say, ‘Go! a Chippewa has
come hither with the name of a Huron.’ Broth-
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ers, we must not forget the dead; a red-skin
never ceases to remember. We will load the
back of this Mohican until he staggers under
our bounty, and dispatch him after my young
men. They call to us for aid, though our ears
are not open; they say, ‘Forget us not.’ When
they see the spirit of this Mohican toiling after them with his burden, they will know we
are of that mind. Then will they go on happy;
and our children will say, ‘So did our fathers to
their friends, so must we do to them.’ What is
a Yengee? we have slain many, but the earth
is still pale. A stain on the name of Huron can
only be hid by blood that comes from the veins
of an Indian. Let this Delaware die.”
The effect of such an harangue, delivered in
the nervous language and with the emphatic
manner of a Huron orator, could scarcely be
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mistaken. Magua had so artfully blended the
natural sympathies with the religious superstition of his auditors, that their minds, already
prepared by custom to sacrifice a victim to the
manes of their countrymen, lost every vestige
of humanity in a wish for revenge. One warrior
in particular, a man of wild and ferocious mien,
had been conspicuous for the attention he had
given to the words of the speaker. His countenance had changed with each passing emotion, until it settled into a look of deadly malice. As Magua ended he arose and, uttering
the yell of a demon, his polished little axe was
seen glancing in the torchlight as he whirled it
above his head. The motion and the cry were
too sudden for words to interrupt his bloody
intention. It appeared as if a bright gleam shot
from his hand, which was crossed at the same
moment by a dark and powerful line. The for-
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mer was the tomahawk in its passage; the latter
the arm that Magua darted forward to divert its
aim. The quick and ready motion of the chief
was not entirely too late. The keen weapon cut
the war plume from the scalping tuft of Uncas,
and passed through the frail wall of the lodge
as though it were hurled from some formidable
engine.
Duncan had seen the threatening action, and
sprang upon his feet, with a heart which, while
it leaped into his throat, swelled with the most
generous resolution in behalf of his friend. A
glance told him that the blow had failed, and
terror changed to admiration. Uncas stood still,
looking his enemy in the eye with features that
seemed superior to emotion. Marble could not
be colder, calmer, or steadier than the countenance he put upon this sudden and vindictive
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attack. Then, as if pitying a want of skill which
had proved so fortunate to himself, he smiled,
and muttered a few words of contempt in his
own tongue.
“No!” said Magua, after satisfying himself of
the safety of the captive; “the sun must shine
on his shame; the squaws must see his flesh
tremble, or our revenge will be like the play of
boys. Go! take him where there is silence; let
us see if a Delaware can sleep at night, and in
the morning die.”
The young men whose duty it was to guard
the prisoner instantly passed their ligaments
of bark across his arms, and led him from the
lodge, amid a profound and ominous silence.
It was only as the figure of Uncas stood in the
opening of the door that his firm step hesitated. There he turned, and, in the sweeping
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and haughty glance that he threw around the
circle of his enemies, Duncan caught a look
which he was glad to construe into an expression that he was not entirely deserted by hope.
Magua was content with his success, or too
much occupied with his secret purposes to
push his inquiries any further. Shaking his
mantle, and folding it on his bosom, he also
quitted the place, without pursuing a subject
which might have proved so fatal to the individual at his elbow. Notwithstanding his rising
resentment, his natural firmness, and his anxiety on behalf of Uncas, Heyward felt sensibly
relieved by the absence of so dangerous and
so subtle a foe. The excitement produced by
the speech gradually subsided. The warriors
resumed their seats and clouds of smoke once
more filled the lodge. For near half an hour, not
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a syllable was uttered, or scarcely a look cast
aside; a grave and meditative silence being the
ordinary succession to every scene of violence
and commotion among these beings, who were
alike so impetuous and yet so self-restrained.
When the chief, who had solicited the aid
of Duncan, finished his pipe, he made a final
and successful movement toward departing. A
motion of a finger was the intimation he gave
the supposed physician to follow; and passing through the clouds of smoke, Duncad was
glad, on more accounts than one, to be able at
last to breathe the pure air of a cool and refreshing summer evening.
Instead of pursuing his way among those
lodges where Heyward had already made his
unsuccessful search, his companion turned
aside, and proceeded directly toward the base
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of an adjacent mountain, which overhung the
temporary village. A thicket of brush skirted
its foot, and it became necessary to proceed
through a crooked and narrow path. The boys
had resumed their sports in the clearing, and
were enacting a mimic chase to the post among
themselves. In order to render their games as
like the reality as possible, one of the boldest
of their number had conveyed a few brands
into some piles of tree-tops that had hitherto
escaped the burning. The blaze of one of these
fires lighted the way of the chief and Duncan,
and gave a character of additional wildness to
the rude scenery. At a little distance from a bald
rock, and directly in its front, they entered a
grassy opening, which they prepared to cross.
Just then fresh fuel was added to the fire, and
a powerful light penetrated even to that distant
spot. It fell upon the white surface of the moun-
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tain, and was reflected downward upon a dark
and mysterious-looking being that arose, unexpectedly, in their path. The Indian paused, as
if doubtful whether to proceed, and permitted
his companion to approach his side. A large
black ball, which at first seemed stationary,
now began to move in a manner that to the latter was inexplicable. Again the fire brightened
and its glare fell more distinctly on the object.
Then even Duncan knew it, by its restless and
sidling attitudes, which kept the upper part of
its form in constant motion, while the animal
itself appeared seated, to be a bear. Though
it growled loudly and fiercely, and there were
instants when its glistening eyeballs might be
seen, it gave no other indications of hostility.
The Huron, at least, seemed assured that the
intentions of this singular intruder were peaceable, for after giving it an attentive examina-
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tion, he quietly pursued his course.
Duncan, who knew that the animal was often domesticated among the Indians, followed
the example of his companion, believing that
some favorite of the tribe had found its way
into the thicket, in search of food. They passed
it unmolested. Though obliged to come nearly
in contact with the monster, the Huron, who
had at first so warily determined the character of his strange visitor, was now content with
proceeding without wasting a moment in further examination; but Heyward was unable
to prevent his eyes from looking backward,
in salutary watchfulness against attacks in the
rear. His uneasiness was in no degree diminished when he perceived the beast rolling along
their path, and following their footsteps. He
would have spoken, but the Indian at that mo-
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ment shoved aside a door of bark, and entered
a cavern in the bosom of the mountain.
Profiting by so easy a method of retreat,
Duncan stepped after him, and was gladly
closing the slight cover to the opening, when
he felt it drawn from his hand by the beast,
whose shaggy form immediately darkened the
passage. They were now in a straight and long
gallery, in a chasm of the rocks, where retreat
without encountering the animal was impossible. Making the best of the circumstances, the
young man pressed forward, keeping as close
as possible to his conductor. The bear growled
frequently at his heels, and once or twice its
enormous paws were laid on his person, as if
disposed to prevent his further passage into the
den.
How long the nerves of Heyward would
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have sustained him in this extraordinary situation, it might be difficult to decide, for, happily,
he soon found relief. A glimmer of light had
constantly been in their front, and they now arrived at the place whence it proceeded.
A large cavity in the rock had been rudely
fitted to answer the purposes of many apartments. The subdivisions were simple but ingenious, being composed of stone, sticks, and
bark, intermingled. Openings above admitted
the light by day, and at night fires and torches
supplied the place of the sun. Hither the
Hurons had brought most of their valuables,
especially those which more particularly pertained to the nation; and hither, as it now appeared, the sick woman, who was believed to
be the victim of supernatural power, had been
transported also, under an impression that her
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tormentor would find more difficulty in making his assaults through walls of stone than
through the leafy coverings of the lodges. The
apartment into which Duncan and his guide
first entered, had been exclusively devoted to
her accommodation. The latter approached her
bedside, which was surrounded by females, in
the center of whom Heyward was surprised to
find his missing friend David.
A single look was sufficient to apprise the
pretended leech that the invalid was far beyond his powers of healing. She lay in a sort
of paralysis, indifferent to the objects which
crowded before her sight, and happily unconscious of suffering. Heyward was far from regretting that his mummeries were to be performed on one who was much too ill to take an
interest in their failure or success. The slight
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qualm of conscience which had been excited
by the intended deception was instantly appeased, and he began to collect his thoughts,
in order to enact his part with suitable spirit,
when he found he was about to be anticipated
in his skill by an attempt to prove the power of
music.
Gamut, who had stood prepared to pour
forth his spirit in song when the visitors entered, after delaying a moment, drew a strain
from his pipe, and commenced a hymn that
might have worked a miracle, had faith in its
efficacy been of much avail. He was allowed to
proceed to the close, the Indians respecting his
imaginary infirmity, and Duncan too glad of
the delay to hazard the slightest interruption.
As the dying cadence of his strains was falling
on the ears of the latter, he started aside at hear-
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ing them repeated behind him, in a voice half
human and half sepulchral. Looking around,
he beheld the shaggy monster seated on end
in a shadow of the cavern, where, while his
restless body swung in the uneasy manner of
the animal, it repeated, in a sort of low growl,
sounds, if not words, which bore some slight
resemblance to the melody of the singer.
The effect of so strange an echo on David
may better be imagined than described. His
eyes opened as if he doubted their truth; and
his voice became instantly mute in excess of
wonder. A deep-laid scheme, of communicating some important intelligence to Heyward,
was driven from his recollection by an emotion
which very nearly resembled fear, but which
he was fain to believe was admiration. Under
its influence, he exclaimed aloud: “She expects
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you, and is at hand”; and precipitately left the
cavern.
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“Snug.–Have you the lion’s part
written?
Pray you, if it be, give it to me, for
I am slow of study.
Quince.–You may do it extempore,
for it is nothing but roaring.”
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–Midsummer
Night’s Dream.
There was a strange blending of the ridiculous
with that which was solemn in this scene. The
beast still continued its rolling, and apparently
untiring movements, though its ludicrous attempt to imitate the melody of David ceased
the instant the latter abandoned the field. The
words of Gamut were, as has been seen, in
his native tongue; and to Duncan they seem
pregnant with some hidden meaning, though
nothing present assisted him in discovering the
object of their allusion. A speedy end was,
however, put to every conjecture on the subject, by the manner of the chief, who advanced
to the bedside of the invalid, and beckoned
away the whole group of female attendants
that had clustered there to witness the skill of
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CHAPTER 25
the stranger. He was implicitly, though reluctantly, obeyed; and when the low echo which
rang along the hollow, natural gallery, from the
distant closing door, had ceased, pointing toward his insensible daughter, he said:
“Now let my brother show his power.”
Thus unequivocally called on to exercise
the functions of his assumed character, Heyward was apprehensive that the smallest delay
might prove dangerous. Endeavoring, then, to
collect his ideas, he prepared to perform that
species of incantation, and those uncouth rites,
under which the Indian conjurers are accustomed to conceal their ignorance and impotency. It is more than probable that, in the disordered state of his thoughts, he would soon
have fallen into some suspicious, if not fatal,
error had not his incipient attempts been inter-
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rupted by a fierce growl from the quadruped.
Three several times did he renew his efforts
to proceed, and as often was he met by the
same unaccountable opposition, each interruption seeming more savage and threatening than
the preceding.
“The cunning ones are jealous,” said the
Huron; “I go. Brother, the woman is the wife
of one of my bravest young men; deal justly by
her. Peace!” he added, beckoning to the discontented beast to be quiet; “I go.”
The chief was as good as his word, and Duncan now found himself alone in that wild and
desolate abode with the helpless invalid and
the fierce and dangerous brute. The latter listened to the movements of the Indian with that
air of sagacity that a bear is known to possess,
until another echo announced that he had also
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left the cavern, when it turned and came waddling up to Duncan before whom it seated itself in its natural attitude, erect like a man. The
youth looked anxiously about him for some
weapon, with which he might make a resistance against the attack he now seriously expected.
It seemed, however, as if the humor of the
animal had suddenly changed. Instead of continuing its discontented growls, or manifesting any further signs of anger, the whole of
its shaggy body shook violently, as if agitated
by some strange internal convulsion. The huge
and unwieldy talons pawed stupidly about the
grinning muzzle, and while Heyward kept his
eyes riveted on its movements with jealous
watchfulness, the grim head fell on one side
and in its place appeared the honest sturdy
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CHAPTER 25
countenance of the scout, who was indulging
from the bottom of his soul in his own peculiar
expression of merriment.
“Hist!” said the wary woodsman, interrupting Heyward’s exclamation of surprise; “the
varlets are about the place, and any sounds that
are not natural to witchcraft would bring them
back upon us in a body.”
“Tell me the meaning of this masquerade;
and why you have attempted so desperate an
adventure?”
“Ah, reason and calculation are often outdone by accident,” returned the scout. “But, as
a story should always commence at the beginning, I will tell you the whole in order. After
we parted I placed the commandant and the
Sagamore in an old beaver lodge, where they
are safer from the Hurons than they would be
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in the garrison of Edward; for your high northwest Indians, not having as yet got the traders
among them, continued to venerate the beaver.
After which Uncas and I pushed for the other
encampment as was agreed. Have you seen the
lad?”
“To my great grief! He is captive, and condemned to die at the rising of the sun.”
“I had misgivings that such would be his
fate,” resumed the scout, in a less confident
and joyous tone. But soon regaining his naturally firm voice, he continued: “His bad fortune is the true reason of my being here, for it
would never do to abandon such a boy to the
Hurons. A rare time the knaves would have of
it, could they tie ‘The Bounding Elk’ and ‘The
Long Carabine’, as they call me, to the same
stake! Though why they have given me such a
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name I never knew, there being as little likeness
between the gifts of ‘killdeer’ and the performance of one of your real Canada carabynes,
as there is between the natur’ of a pipe-stone
and a flint.”
“Keep to your tale,” said the impatient Heyward; “we know not at what moment the
Hurons may return.”
“No fear of them. A conjurer must have his
time, like a straggling priest in the settlements.
We are as safe from interruption as a missionary would be at the beginning of a two hours’
discourse. Well, Uncas and I fell in with a return party of the varlets; the lad was much too
forward for a scout; nay, for that matter, being
of hot blood, he was not so much to blame; and,
after all, one of the Hurons proved a coward,
and in fleeing led him into an ambushment.”
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“And dearly has he paid for the weakness.”
The scout significantly passed his hand
across his own throat, and nodded, as if he
said, “I comprehend your meaning.” After
which he continued, in a more audible though
scarcely more intelligible language:
“After the loss of the boy I turned upon the
Hurons, as you may judge. There have been
scrimmages atween one or two of their outlyers
and myself; but that is neither here nor there.
So, after I had shot the imps, I got in pretty nigh
to the lodges without further commotion. Then
what should luck do in my favor but lead me
to the very spot where one of the most famous
conjurers of the tribe was dressing himself, as
I well knew, for some great battle with Satan–
though why should I call that luck, which it
now seems was an especial ordering of Provi-
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CHAPTER 25
dence. So a judgmatical rap over the head stiffened the lying impostor for a time, and leaving
him a bit of walnut for his supper, to prevent
an uproar, and stringing him up atween two
saplings, I made free with his finery, and took
the part of the bear on myself, in order that the
operations might proceed.”
“And admirably did you enact the character;
the animal itself might have been shamed by
the representation.”
“Lord, major,” returned the flattered woodsman, “I should be but a poor scholar for one
who has studied so long in the wilderness, did
I not know how to set forth the movements
or natur’ of such a beast. Had it been now a
catamount, or even a full-size panther, I would
have embellished a performance for you worth
regarding. But it is no such marvelous feat to
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exhibit the feats of so dull a beast; though, for
that matter, too, a bear may be overacted. Yes,
yes; it is not every imitator that knows natur’
may be outdone easier than she is equaled. But
all our work is yet before us. Where is the gentle one?”
“Heaven knows. I have examined every
lodge in the village, without discovering the
slightest trace of her presence in the tribe.”
“You heard what the singer said, as he left
us: ‘She is at hand, and expects you’?”
“I have been compelled to believe he alluded
to this unhappy woman.”
“The simpleton was frightened, and blundered through his message; but he had a
deeper meaning. Here are walls enough to separate the whole settlement. A bear ought to
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climb; therefore will I take a look above them.
There may be honey-pots hid in these rocks,
and I am a beast, you know, that has a hankering for the sweets.”
The scout looked behind him, laughing at his
own conceit, while he clambered up the partition, imitating, as he went, the clumsy motions
of the beast he represented; but the instant the
summit was gained he made a gesture for silence, and slid down with the utmost precipitation.
“She is here,” he whispered, “and by that
door you will find her. I would have spoken
a word of comfort to the afflicted soul; but the
sight of such a monster might upset her reason.
Though for that matter, major, you are none of
the most inviting yourself in your paint.”
Duncan, who had already swung eagerly
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forward, drew instantly back on hearing these
discouraging words.
“Am I, then, so very revolting?”
manded, with an air of chagrin.
he de-
“You might not startle a wolf, or turn the
Royal Americans from a discharge; but I have
seen the time when you had a better favored
look; your streaked countenances are not illjudged of by the squaws, but young women
of white blood give the preference to their own
color. See,” he added, pointing to a place where
the water trickled from a rock, forming a little
crystal spring, before it found an issue through
the adjacent crevices; “you may easily get rid of
the Sagamore’s daub, and when you come back
I will try my hand at a new embellishment. It’s
as common for a conjurer to alter his paint as
for a buck in the settlements to change his fin-
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ery.”
The deliberate woodsman had little occasion
to hunt for arguments to enforce his advice. He
was yet speaking when Duncan availed himself of the water. In a moment every frightful or offensive mark was obliterated, and the
youth appeared again in the lineaments with
which he had been gifted by nature. Thus prepared for an interview with his mistress, he
took a hasty leave of his companion, and disappeared through the indicated passage. The
scout witnessed his departure with complacency, nodding his head after him, and muttering his good wishes; after which he very coolly
set about an examination of the state of the
larder, among the Hurons, the cavern, among
other purposes, being used as a receptacle for
the fruits of their hunts.
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CHAPTER 25
Duncan had no other guide than a distant
glimmering light, which served, however, the
office of a polar star to the lover. By its
aid he was enabled to enter the haven of his
hopes, which was merely another apartment of
the cavern, that had been solely appropriated
to the safekeeping of so important a prisoner
as a daughter of the commandant of William
Henry. It was profusely strewed with the plunder of that unlucky fortress. In the midst of this
confusion he found her he sought, pale, anxious and terrified, but lovely. David had prepared her for such a visit.
“Duncan!” she exclaimed, in a voice that
seemed to tremble at the sounds created by itself.
“Alice!” he answered, leaping carelessly
among trunks, boxes, arms, and furniture, until
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he stood at her side.
“I knew that you would never desert me,”
she said, looking up with a momentary glow
on her otherwise dejected countenance. “But
you are alone! Grateful as it is to be thus remembered, I could wish to think you are not
entirely alone.”
Duncan, observing that she trembled in a
manner which betrayed her inability to stand,
gently induced her to be seated, while he recounted those leading incidents which it has
been our task to accord. Alice listened with
breathless interest; and though the young man
touched lightly on the sorrows of the stricken
father; taking care, however, not to wound the
self-love of his auditor, the tears ran as freely
down the cheeks of the daughter as though she
had never wept before. The soothing tender-
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ness of Duncan, however, soon quieted the first
burst of her emotions, and she then heard him
to the close with undivided attention, if not
with composure.
“And now, Alice,” he added, “you will see
how much is still expected of you. By the assistance of our experienced and invaluable friend,
the scout, we may find our way from this savage people, but you will have to exert your utmost fortitude. Remember that you fly to the
arms of your venerable parent, and how much
his happiness, as well as your own, depends on
those exertions.”
“Can I do otherwise for a father who has
done so much for me?”
“And for me, too,” continued the youth, gently pressing the hand he held in both his own.
The look of innocence and surprise which he
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received in return convinced Duncan of the necessity of being more explicit.
“This is neither the place nor the occasion to
detain you with selfish wishes,” he added; “but
what heart loaded like mine would not wish to
cast its burden? They say misery is the closest
of all ties; our common suffering in your behalf
left but little to be explained between your father and myself.”
“And, dearest Cora, Duncan; surely Cora
was not forgotten?”
“Not forgotten! no; regretted, as woman was
seldom mourned before. Your venerable father
knew no difference between his children; but I–
Alice, you will not be offended when I say, that
to me her worth was in a degree obscured–”
“Then you knew not the merit of my sister,” said Alice, withdrawing her hand; “of you
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she ever speaks as of one who is her dearest
friend.”
“I would gladly believe her such,” returned
Duncan, hastily; “I could wish her to be even
more; but with you, Alice, I have the permission of your father to aspire to a still nearer and
dearer tie.”
Alice trembled violently, and there was an
instant during which she bent her face aside,
yielding to the emotions common to her sex;
but they quickly passed away, leaving her mistress of her deportment, if not of her affections.
“Heyward,” she said, looking him full in the
face with a touching expression of innocence
and dependency, “give me the sacred presence
and the holy sanction of that parent before you
urge me further.”
“Though more I should not, less I could not
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say,” the youth was about to answer, when he
was interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder.
Starting to his feet, he turned, and, confronting
the intruder, his looks fell on the dark form and
malignant visage of Magua. The deep guttural
laugh of the savage sounded, at such a moment, to Duncan, like the hellish taunt of a demon. Had he pursued the sudden and fierce
impulse of the instant, he would have cast himself on the Huron, and committed their fortunes to the issue of a deadly struggle. But,
without arms of any description, ignorant of
what succor his subtle enemy could command,
and charged with the safety of one who was
just then dearer than ever to his heart, he no
sooner entertained than he abandoned the desperate intention.
“What is your purpose?” said Alice, meekly
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folding her arms on her bosom, and struggling
to conceal an agony of apprehension in behalf
of Heyward, in the usual cold and distant manner with which she received the visits of her
captor.
The exulting Indian had resumed his austere
countenance, though he drew warily back before the menacing glance of the young man’s
fiery eye. He regarded both his captives for a
moment with a steady look, and then, stepping
aside, he dropped a log of wood across a door
different from that by which Duncan had entered. The latter now comprehended the manner of his surprise, and, believing himself irretrievably lost, he drew Alice to his bosom,
and stood prepared to meet a fate which he
hardly regretted, since it was to be suffered in
such company. But Magua meditated no im-
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mediate violence. His first measures were very
evidently taken to secure his new captive; nor
did he even bestow a second glance at the motionless forms in the center of the cavern, until
he had completely cut off every hope of retreat
through the private outlet he had himself used.
He was watched in all his movements by Heyward, who, however, remained firm, still folding the fragile form of Alice to his heart, at once
too proud and too hopeless to ask favor of an
enemy so often foiled. When Magua had effected his object he approached his prisoners,
and said in English:
“The pale faces trap the cunning beavers; but
the red-skins know how to take the Yengeese.”
“Huron, do your worst!” exclaimed the excited Heyward, forgetful that a double stake
was involved in his life; “you and your
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vengeance are alike despised.”
“Will the white man speak these words at
the stake?” asked Magua; manifesting, at the
same time, how little faith he had in the other’s
resolution by the sneer that accompanied his
words.
“Here; singly to your face, or in the presence
of your nation.”
“Le Renard Subtil is a great chief!” returned
the Indian; “he will go and bring his young
men, to see how bravely a pale face can laugh
at tortures.”
He turned away while speaking, and was
about to leave the place through the avenue by
which Duncan had approached, when a growl
caught his ear, and caused him to hesitate. The
figure of the bear appeared in the door, where
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it sat, rolling from side to side in its customary restlessness. Magua, like the father of the
sick woman, eyed it keenly for a moment, as
if to ascertain its character. He was far above
the more vulgar superstitions of his tribe, and
so soon as he recognized the well-known attire of the conjurer, he prepared to pass it in
cool contempt. But a louder and more threatening growl caused him again to pause. Then
he seemed as if suddenly resolved to trifle no
longer, and moved resolutely forward.
The mimic animal, which had advanced a little, retired slowly in his front, until it arrived
again at the pass, when, rearing on his hinder
legs, it beat the air with its paws, in the manner
practised by its brutal prototype.
“Fool!” exclaimed the chief, in Huron, “go
play with the children and squaws; leave men
835
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to their wisdom.”
He once more endeavored to pass the supposed empiric, scorning even the parade of
threatening to use the knife, or tomahawk,
that was pendent from his belt. Suddenly the
beast extended its arms, or rather legs, and inclosed him in a grasp that might have vied with
the far-famed power of the “bear’s hug” itself.
Heyward had watched the whole procedure,
on the part of Hawkeye, with breathless interest. At first he relinquished his hold of Alice;
then he caught up a thong of buckskin, which
had been used around some bundle, and when
he beheld his enemy with his two arms pinned
to his side by the iron muscles of the scout,
he rushed upon him, and effectually secured
them there. Arms, legs, and feet were encircled in twenty folds of the thong, in less time
836
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than we have taken to record the circumstance.
When the formidable Huron was completely
pinioned, the scout released his hold, and Duncan laid his enemy on his back, utterly helpless.
Throughout the whole of this sudden and
extraordinary operation, Magua, though he
had struggled violently, until assured he was
in the hands of one whose nerves were far better strung than his own, had not uttered the
slightest exclamation. But when Hawkeye, by
way of making a summary explanation of his
conduct, removed the shaggy jaws of the beast,
and exposed his own rugged and earnest countenance to the gaze of the Huron, the philosophy of the latter was so far mastered as to permit him to utter the never failing:
“Hugh!”
“Ay, you’ve found your tongue,” said his
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undisturbed conqueror; “now, in order that
you shall not use it to our ruin, I must make
free to stop your mouth.”
As there was no time to be lost, the scout
immediately set about effecting so necessary a
precaution; and when he had gagged the Indian, his enemy might safely have been considered as “hors de combat.”
“By what place did the imp enter?” asked
the industrious scout, when his work was
ended. “Not a soul has passed my way since
you left me.”
Duncan pointed out the door by which
Magua had come, and which now presented
too many obstacles to a quick retreat.
“Bring on the gentle one, then,” continued
his friend; “we must make a push for the
woods by the other outlet.”
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CHAPTER 25
“‘Tis impossible!” said Duncan; “fear has
overcome her, and she is helpless. Alice! my
sweet, my own Alice, arouse yourself; now is
the moment to fly. ‘Tis in vain! she hears, but is
unable to follow. Go, noble and worthy friend;
save yourself, and leave me to my fate.”
“Every trail has its end, and every calamity
brings its lesson!” returned the scout. “There,
wrap her in them Indian cloths. Conceal all of
her little form. Nay, that foot has no fellow in
the wilderness; it will betray her. All, every
part. Now take her in your arms, and follow.
Leave the rest to me.”
Duncan, as may be gathered from the words
of his companion, was eagerly obeying; and, as
the other finished speaking, he took the light
person of Alice in his arms, and followed in
the footsteps of the scout. They found the sick
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woman as they had left her, still alone, and
passed swiftly on, by the natural gallery, to the
place of entrance. As they approached the little
door of bark, a murmur of voices without announced that the friends and relatives of the invalid were gathered about the place, patiently
awaiting a summons to re-enter.
“If I open my lips to speak,” Hawkeye
whispered, “my English, which is the genuine
tongue of a white-skin, will tell the varlets that
an enemy is among them. You must give ‘em
your jargon, major; and say that we have shut
the evil spirit in the cave, and are taking the
woman to the woods in order to find strengthening roots. Practise all your cunning, for it is
a lawful undertaking.”
The door opened a little, as if one without
was listening to the proceedings within, and
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CHAPTER 25
compelled the scout to cease his directions.
A fierce growl repelled the eavesdropper, and
then the scout boldly threw open the covering
of bark, and left the place, enacting the character of a bear as he proceeded. Duncan kept
close at his heels, and soon found himself in
the center of a cluster of twenty anxious relatives and friends.
The crowd fell back a little, and permitted
the father, and one who appeared to be the husband of the woman, to approach.
“Has my brother driven away the evil
spirit?” demanded the former. “What has he
in his arms?”
“Thy child,” returned Duncan, gravely; “the
disease has gone out of her; it is shut up in the
rocks. I take the woman to a distance, where I
will strengthen her against any further attacks.
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She will be in the wigwam of the young man
when the sun comes again.”
When the father had translated the meaning of the stranger’s words into the Huron language, a suppressed murmur announced the
satisfaction with which this intelligence was received. The chief himself waved his hand for
Duncan to proceed, saying aloud, in a firm
voice, and with a lofty manner:
“Go; I am a man, and I will enter the rock
and fight the wicked one.”
Heyward had gladly obeyed, and was already past the little group, when these startling
words arrested him.
“Is my brother mad?” he exclaimed; “is he
cruel? He will meet the disease, and it will
enter him; or he will drive out the disease,
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and it will chase his daughter into the woods.
No; let my children wait without, and if the
spirit appears beat him down with clubs. He
is cunning, and will bury himself in the mountain, when he sees how many are ready to fight
him.”
This singular warning had the desired effect. Instead of entering the cavern, the father and husband drew their tomahawks, and
posted themselves in readiness to deal their
vengeance on the imaginary tormentor of their
sick relative, while the women and children
broke branches from the bushes, or seized fragments of the rock, with a similar intention. At
this favorable moment the counterfeit conjurers disappeared.
Hawkeye, at the same time that he had presumed so far on the nature of the Indian su-
843
CHAPTER 25
perstitions, was not ignorant that they were
rather tolerated than relied on by the wisest of
the chiefs. He well knew the value of time in
the present emergency. Whatever might be the
extent of the self-delusion of his enemies, and
however it had tended to assist his schemes,
the slightest cause of suspicion, acting on the
subtle nature of an Indian, would be likely to
prove fatal. Taking the path, therefore, that
was most likely to avoid observation, he rather
skirted than entered the village. The warriors
were still to be seen in the distance, by the fading light of the fires, stalking from lodge to
lodge. But the children had abandoned their
sports for their beds of skins, and the quiet of
night was already beginning to prevail over the
turbulence and excitement of so busy and important an evening.
844
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Alice revived under the renovating influence
of the open air, and, as her physical rather
than her mental powers had been the subject
of weakness, she stood in no need of any explanation of that which had occurred.
“Now let me make an effort to walk,” she
said, when they had entered the forest, blushing, though unseen, that she had not been
sooner able to quit the arms of Duncan; “I am
indeed restored.”
“Nay, Alice, you are yet too weak.”
The maiden struggled gently to release herself, and Heyward was compelled to part with
his precious burden. The representative of the
bear had certainly been an entire stranger to the
delicious emotions of the lover while his arms
encircled his mistress; and he was, perhaps, a
stranger also to the nature of that feeling of in-
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CHAPTER 25
genuous shame that oppressed the trembling
Alice. But when he found himself at a suitable
distance from the lodges he made a halt, and
spoke on a subject of which he was thoroughly
the master.
“This path will lead you to the brook,” he
said; “follow its northern bank until you come
to a fall; mount the hill on your right, and you
will see the fires of the other people. There
you must go and demand protection; if they
are true Delawares you will be safe. A distant
flight with that gentle one, just now, is impossible. The Hurons would follow up our trail, and
master our scalps before we had got a dozen
miles. Go, and Providence be with you.”
“And you!” demanded Heyward, in surprise; “surely we part not here?”
“The Hurons hold the pride of the
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Delawares; the last of the high blood of
the Mohicans is in their power,” returned the
scout; “I go to see what can be done in his
favor. Had they mastered your scalp, major, a
knave should have fallen for every hair it held,
as I promised; but if the young Sagamore is to
be led to the stake, the Indians shall see also
how a man without a cross can die.”
Not in the least offended with the decided
preference that the sturdy woodsman gave to
one who might, in some degree, be called the
child of his adoption, Duncan still continued to
urge such reasons against so desperate an effort
as presented themselves. He was aided by Alice, who mingled her entreaties with those of
Heyward that he would abandon a resolution
that promised so much danger, with so little
hope of success. Their eloquence and ingenuity
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CHAPTER 25
were expended in vain. The scout heard them
attentively, but impatiently, and finally closed
the discussion, by answering, in a tone that instantly silenced Alice, while it told Heyward
how fruitless any further remonstrances would
be.
“I have heard,” he said, “that there is a feeling in youth which binds man to woman closer
than the father is tied to the son. It may be
so. I have seldom been where women of my
color dwell; but such may be the gifts of nature
in the settlements. You have risked life, and
all that is dear to you, to bring off this gentle
one, and I suppose that some such disposition
is at the bottom of it all. As for me, I taught
the lad the real character of a rifle; and well
has he paid me for it. I have fou’t at his side
in many a bloody scrimmage; and so long as I
848
CHAPTER 25
could hear the crack of his piece in one ear, and
that of the Sagamore in the other, I knew no
enemy was on my back. Winters and summer,
nights and days, have we roved the wilderness
in company, eating of the same dish, one sleeping while the other watched; and afore it shall
be said that Uncas was taken to the torment,
and I at hand–There is but a single Ruler of
us all, whatever may the color of the skin; and
Him I call to witness, that before the Mohican
boy shall perish for the want of a friend, good
faith shall depart the ‘arth, and ‘killdeer’ become as harmless as the tooting we’pon of the
singer!”
Duncan released his hold on the arm of the
scout, who turned, and steadily retraced his
steps toward the lodges. After pausing a moment to gaze at his retiring form, the success-
849
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ful and yet sorrowful Heyward and Alice took
their way together toward the distant village of
the Delawares.
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CHAPTER 26
“Bot.–Let me play the lion too.”
–Midsummer Night’s Dream
NOTWITHSTANDING THE HIGH resolution of Hawkeye he fully comprehended all the
difficulties and danger he was about to incur.
In his return to the camp, his acute and prac-
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CHAPTER 26
tised intellects were intently engaged in devising means to counteract a watchfulness and
suspicion on the part of his enemies, that he
knew were, in no degree, inferior to his own.
Nothing but the color of his skin had saved the
lives of Magua and the conjurer, who would
have been the first victims sacrificed to his own
security, had not the scout believed such an
act, however congenial it might be to the nature of an Indian, utterly unworthy of one who
boasted a descent from men that knew no cross
of blood. Accordingly, he trusted to the withes
and ligaments with which he had bound his
captives, and pursued his way directly toward
the center of the lodges. As he approached the
buildings, his steps become more deliberate,
and his vigilant eye suffered no sign, whether
friendly or hostile, to escape him. A neglected
hut was a little in advance of the others, and
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CHAPTER 26
appeared as if it had been deserted when half
completed–most probably on account of failing in some of the more important requisites;
such as wood or water. A faint light glimmered
through its cracks, however, and announced
that, notwithstanding its imperfect structure, it
was not without a tenant. Thither, then, the
scout proceeded, like a prudent general, who
was about to feel the advanced positions of his
enemy, before he hazarded the main attack.
Throwing himself into a suitable posture for
the beast he represented, Hawkeye crawled to
a little opening, where he might command a
view of the interior. It proved to be the abiding place of David Gamut. Hither the faithful
singing-master had now brought himself, together with all his sorrows, his apprehensions,
and his meek dependence on the protection
853
CHAPTER 26
of Providence. At the precise moment when
his ungainly person came under the observation of the scout, in the manner just mentioned,
the woodsman himself, though in his assumed
character, was the subject of the solitary being’s
profounded reflections.
However implicit the faith of David was in
the performance of ancient miracles, he eschewed the belief of any direct supernatural
agency in the management of modern morality. In other words, while he had implicit faith
in the ability of Balaam’s ass to speak, he was
somewhat skeptical on the subject of a bear’s
singing; and yet he had been assured of the latter, on the testimony of his own exquisite organs. There was something in his air and manner that betrayed to the scout the utter confusion of the state of his mind. He was seated on
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CHAPTER 26
a pile of brush, a few twigs from which occasionally fed his low fire, with his head leaning
on his arm, in a posture of melancholy musing.
The costume of the votary of music had undergone no other alteration from that so lately
described, except that he had covered his bald
head with the triangular beaver, which had not
proved sufficiently alluring to excite the cupidity of any of his captors.
The ingenious Hawkeye, who recalled the
hasty manner in which the other had abandoned his post at the bedside of the sick
woman, was not without his suspicions concerning the subject of so much solemn deliberation. First making the circuit of the hut, and ascertaining that it stood quite alone, and that the
character of its inmate was likely to protect it
from visitors, he ventured through its low door,
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CHAPTER 26
into the very presence of Gamut. The position of the latter brought the fire between them;
and when Hawkeye had seated himself on end,
near a minute elapsed, during which the two
remained regarding each other without speaking. The suddenness and the nature of the surprise had nearly proved too much for–we will
not say the philosophy–but for the pitch and
resolution of David. He fumbled for his pitchpipe, and arose with a confused intention of attempting a musical exorcism.
“Dark and mysterious monster!” he exclaimed, while with trembling hands he disposed of his auxiliary eyes, and sought his
never-failing resource in trouble, the gifted version of the psalms; “I know not your nature nor
intents; but if aught you meditate against the
person and rights of one of the humblest ser-
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CHAPTER 26
vants of the temple, listen to the inspired language of the youth of Israel, and repent.”
The bear shook his shaggy sides, and then a
well-known voice replied:
“Put up the tooting we’pon, and teach your
throat modesty. Five words of plain and comprehendible English are worth just now an
hour of squalling.”
“What art thou?” demanded David, utterly
disqualified to pursue his original intention,
and nearly gasping for breath.
“A man like yourself; and one whose blood
is as little tainted by the cross of a bear, or an
Indian, as your own. Have you so soon forgotten from whom you received the foolish instrument you hold in your hand?”
“Can these things be?” returned David,
breathing more freely, as the truth began to
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CHAPTER 26
dawn upon him. “I have found many marvels
during my sojourn with the heathen, but surely
nothing to excel this.”
“Come, come,” returned Hawkeye, uncasing
his honest countenance, the better to assure the
wavering confidence of his companion; “you
may see a skin, which, if it be not as white as
one of the gentle ones, has no tinge of red to it
that the winds of the heaven and the sun have
not bestowed. Now let us to business.”
“First tell me of the maiden, and of the youth
who so bravely sought her,” interrupted David.
“Ay, they are happily freed from the tomahawks of these varlets. But can you put me on
the scent of Uncas?”
“The young man is in bondage, and much I
fear his death is decreed. I greatly mourn that
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one so well disposed should die in his ignorance, and I have sought a goodly hymn–”
“Can you lead me to him?”
“The task will not be difficult,” returned
David, hesitating; “though I greatly fear your
presence would rather increase than mitigate
his unhappy fortunes.”
“No more words, but lead on,” returned
Hawkeye, concealing his face again, and setting the example in his own person, by instantly quitting the lodge.
As they proceeded, the scout ascertained
that his companion found access to Uncas, under privilege of his imaginary infirmity, aided
by the favor he had acquired with one of the
guards, who, in consequence of speaking a
little English, had been selected by David as
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CHAPTER 26
the subject of a religious conversion. How far
the Huron comprehended the intentions of his
new friend may well be doubted; but as exclusive attention is as flattering to a savage as to
a more civilized individual, it had produced
the effect we have mentioned. It is unnecessary to repeat the shrewd manner with which
the scout extracted these particulars from the
simple David; neither shall we dwell in this
place on the nature of the instruction he delivered, when completely master of all the necessary facts; as the whole will be sufficiently explained to the reader in the course of the narrative.
The lodge in which Uncas was confined was
in the very center of the village, and in a situation, perhaps, more difficult than any other to
approach, or leave, without observation. But
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CHAPTER 26
it was not the policy of Hawkeye to affect the
least concealment. Presuming on his disguise,
and his ability to sustain the character he had
assumed, he took the most plain and direct
route to the place. The hour, however, afforded
him some little of that protection which he appeared so much to despise. The boys were already buried in sleep, and all the women, and
most of the warriors, had retired to their lodges
for the night. Four or five of the latter only lingered about the door of the prison of Uncas,
wary but close observers of the manner of their
captive.
At the sight of Gamut, accompanied by one
in the well-known masquerade of their most
distinguished conjurer, they readily made way
for them both. Still they betrayed no intention to depart. On the other hand, they were
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CHAPTER 26
evidently disposed to remain bound to the
place by an additional interest in the mysterious mummeries that they of course expected
from such a visit.
From the total inability of the scout to address the Hurons in their own language, he
was compelled to trust the conversation entirely to David. Notwithstanding the simplicity
of the latter, he did ample justice to the instructions he had received, more than fulfilling the
strongest hopes of his teacher.
“The Delawares are women!” he exclaimed,
addressing himself to the savage who had a
slight understanding of the language in which
he spoke; “the Yengeese, my foolish countrymen, have told them to take up the tomahawk,
and strike their fathers in the Canadas, and
they have forgotten their sex. Does my brother
862
CHAPTER 26
wish to hear ‘Le Cerf Agile’ ask for his petticoats, and see him weep before the Hurons, at
the stake?”
The exclamation “Hugh!” delivered in a
strong tone of assent, announced the gratification the savage would receive in witnessing
such an exhibition of weakness in an enemy so
long hated and so much feared.
“Then let him step aside, and the cunning
man will blow upon the dog. Tell it to my
brothers.”
The Huron explained the meaning of David
to his fellows, who, in their turn, listened to the
project with that sort of satisfaction that their
untamed spirits might be expected to find in
such a refinement in cruelty. They drew back
a little from the entrance and motioned to the
supposed conjurer to enter. But the bear, in-
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CHAPTER 26
stead of obeying, maintained the seat it had
taken, and growled:
“The cunning man is afraid that his breath
will blow upon his brothers, and take away
their courage too,” continued David, improving the hint he received; “they must stand further off.”
The Hurons, who would have deemed such
a misfortune the heaviest calamity that could
befall them, fell back in a body, taking a position where they were out of earshot, though
at the same time they could command a view
of the entrance to the lodge. Then, as if satisfied of their safety, the scout left his position, and slowly entered the place. It was silent
and gloomy, being tenanted solely by the captive, and lighted by the dying embers of a fire,
which had been used for the purposed of cook-
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CHAPTER 26
ery.
Uncas occupied a distant corner, in a reclining attitude, being rigidly bound, both hands
and feet, by strong and painful withes. When
the frightful object first presented itself to the
young Mohican, he did not deign to bestow a
single glance on the animal. The scout, who
had left David at the door, to ascertain they
were not observed, thought it prudent to preserve his disguise until assured of their privacy.
Instead of speaking, therefore, he exerted himself to enact one of the antics of the animal he
represented. The young Mohican, who at first
believed his enemies had sent in a real beast
to torment him, and try his nerves, detected
in those performances that to Heyward had
appeared so accurate, certain blemishes, that
at once betrayed the counterfeit. Had Hawk-
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CHAPTER 26
eye been aware of the low estimation in which
the skillful Uncas held his representations, he
would probably have prolonged the entertainment a little in pique. But the scornful expression of the young man’s eye admitted of so
many constructions, that the worthy scout was
spared the mortification of such a discovery.
As soon, therefore, as David gave the preconcerted signal, a low hissing sound was heard in
the lodge in place of the fierce growlings of the
bear.
Uncas had cast his body back against the
wall of the hut and closed his eyes, as if willing to exclude so contemptible and disagreeable an object from his sight. But the moment
the noise of the serpent was heard, he arose,
and cast his looks on each side of him, bending
his head low, and turning it inquiringly in ev-
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CHAPTER 26
ery direction, until his keen eye rested on the
shaggy monster, where it remained riveted, as
though fixed by the power of a charm. Again
the same sounds were repeated, evidently proceeding from the mouth of the beast. Once
more the eyes of the youth roamed over the interior of the lodge, and returning to the former
resting place, he uttered, in a deep, suppressed
voice:
“Hawkeye!”
“Cut his bands,” said Hawkeye to David,
who just then approached them.
The singer did as he was ordered, and Uncas found his limbs released. At the same moment the dried skin of the animal rattled, and
presently the scout arose to his feet, in proper
person. The Mohican appeared to comprehend the nature of the attempt his friend had
867
CHAPTER 26
made, intuitively, neither tongue nor feature
betraying another symptom of surprise. When
Hawkeye had cast his shaggy vestment, which
was done by simply loosing certain thongs of
skin, he drew a long, glittering knife, and put it
in the hands of Uncas.
“The red Hurons are without,” he said; “let
us be ready.” At the same time he laid his finger
significantly on another similar weapon, both
being the fruits of his prowess among their enemies during the evening.
“We will go,” said Uncas.
“Whither?”
“To the Tortoises; they are the children of my
grandfathers.”
“Ay, lad,” said the scout in English–a language he was apt to use when a little abstracted
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CHAPTER 26
in mind; “the same blood runs in your veins,
I believe; but time and distance has a little
changed its color. What shall we do with the
Mingoes at the door? They count six, and this
singer is as good as nothing.”
“The Hurons are boasters,” said Uncas,
scornfully; “their ‘totem’ is a moose, and they
run like snails. The Delawares are children of
the tortoise, and they outstrip the deer.”
“Ay, lad, there is truth in what you say; and I
doubt not, on a rush, you would pass the whole
nation; and, in a straight race of two miles,
would be in, and get your breath again, afore
a knave of them all was within hearing of the
other village. But the gift of a white man lies
more in his arms than in his legs. As for myself, I can brain a Huron as well as a better man;
but when it comes to a race the knaves would
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prove too much for me.”
Uncas, who had already approached the
door, in readiness to lead the way, now recoiled, and placed himself, once more, in the
bottom of the lodge. But Hawkeye, who was
too much occupied with his own thoughts to
note the movement, continued speaking more
to himself than to his companion.
“After all,” he said, “it is unreasonable to
keep one man in bondage to the gifts of another. So, Uncas, you had better take the lead,
while I will put on the skin again, and trust to
cunning for want of speed.”
The young Mohican made no reply, but quietly folded his arms, and leaned his body
against one of the upright posts that supported
the wall of the hut.
“Well,” said the scout looking up at him,
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“why do you tarry? There will be time enough
for me, as the knaves will give chase to you at
first.”
“Uncas will stay,” was the calm reply.
“For what?”
“To fight with his father’s brother, and die
with the friend of the Delawares.”
“Ay, lad,” returned Hawkeye, squeezing the
hand of Uncas between his own iron fingers;
“‘twould have been more like a Mingo than
a Mohican had you left me. But I thought I
would make the offer, seeing that youth commonly loves life. Well, what can’t be done by
main courage, in war, must be done by circumvention. Put on the skin; I doubt not you can
play the bear nearly as well as myself.”
Whatever might have been the private opinion of Uncas of their respective abilities in
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this particular, his grave countenance manifested no opinion of his superiority. He silently
and expeditiously encased himself in the covering of the beast, and then awaited such other
movements as his more aged companion saw
fit to dictate.
“Now, friend,” said Hawkeye, addressing
David, “an exchange of garments will be a
great convenience to you, inasmuch as you are
but little accustomed to the make-shifts of the
wilderness. Here, take my hunting shirt and
cap, and give me your blanket and hat. You
must trust me with the book and spectacles, as
well as the tooter, too; if we ever meet again, in
better times, you shall have all back again, with
many thanks into the bargain.”
David parted with the several articles named
with a readiness that would have done great
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credit to his liberality, had he not certainly
profited, in many particulars, by the exchange.
Hawkeye was not long in assuming his borrowed garments; and when his restless eyes
were hid behind the glasses, and his head was
surmounted by the triangular beaver, as their
statures were not dissimilar, he might readily
have passed for the singer, by starlight. As
soon as these dispositions were made, the scout
turned to David, and gave him his parting instructions.
“Are you much given to cowardice?” he
bluntly asked, by way of obtaining a suitable
understanding of the whole case before he ventured a prescription.
“My pursuits are peaceful, and my temper,
I humbly trust, is greatly given to mercy and
love,” returned David, a little nettled at so di-
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rect an attack on his manhood; “but there are
none who can say that I have ever forgotten my
faith in the Lord, even in the greatest straits.”
“Your chiefest danger will be at the moment
when the savages find out that they have been
deceived. If you are not then knocked on the
head, your being a non-composser will protect
you; and you’ll then have a good reason to expect to die in your bed. If you stay, it must be
to sit down here in the shadow, and take the
part of Uncas, until such times as the cunning
of the Indians discover the cheat, when, as I
have already said, your times of trial will come.
So choose for yourself–to make a rush or tarry
here.”
“Even so,” said David, firmly; “I will abide
in the place of the Delaware. Bravely and generously has he battled in my behalf, and this,
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and more, will I dare in his service.”
“You have spoken as a man, and like one
who, under wiser schooling, would have been
brought to better things. Hold your head
down, and draw in your legs; their formation
might tell the truth too early. Keep silent as
long as may be; and it would be wise, when
you do speak, to break out suddenly in one of
your shoutings, which will serve to remind the
Indians that you are not altogether as responsible as men should be. If however, they take
your scalp, as I trust and believe they will not,
depend on it, Uncas and I will not forget the
deed, but revenge it as becomes true warriors
and trusty friends.”
“Hold!” said David, perceiving that with
this assurance they were about to leave him; “I
am an unworthy and humble follower of one
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who taught not the damnable principle of revenge. Should I fall, therefore, seek no victims
to my manes, but rather forgive my destroyers; and if you remember them at all, let it be
in prayers for the enlightening of their minds,
and for their eternal welfare.”
The scout hesitated, and appeared to muse.
“There is a principle in that,” he said, “different from the law of the woods; and yet it is
fair and noble to reflect upon.” Then heaving
a heavy sigh, probably among the last he ever
drew in pining for a condition he had so long
abandoned, he added: “it is what I would wish
to practise myself, as one without a cross of
blood, though it is not always easy to deal with
an Indian as you would with a fellow Christian. God bless you, friend; I do believe your
scent is not greatly wrong, when the matter is
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duly considered, and keeping eternity before
the eyes, though much depends on the natural
gifts, and the force of temptation.”
So saying, the scout returned and shook
David cordially by the hand; after which act
of friendship he immediately left the lodge, attended by the new representative of the beast.
The instant Hawkeye found himself under
the observation of the Hurons, he drew up his
tall form in the rigid manner of David, threw
out his arm in the act of keeping time, and
commenced what he intended for an imitation
of his psalmody. Happily for the success of
this delicate adventure, he had to deal with
ears but little practised in the concord of sweet
sounds, or the miserable effort would infallibly have been detected. It was necessary to
pass within a dangerous proximity of the dark
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group of the savages, and the voice of the scout
grew louder as they drew nigher. When at the
nearest point the Huron who spoke the English
thrust out an arm, and stopped the supposed
singing-master.
“The Delaware dog!” he said, leaning forward, and peering through the dim light to
catch the expression of the other’s features; “is
he afraid? Will the Hurons hear his groans?”
A growl, so exceedingly fierce and natural,
proceeded from the beast, that the young Indian released his hold and started aside, as if to
assure himself that it was not a veritable bear,
and no counterfeit, that was rolling before him.
Hawkeye, who feared his voice would betray
him to his subtle enemies, gladly profited by
the interruption, to break out anew in such a
burst of musical expression as would, proba-
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bly, in a more refined state of society have been
termed “a grand crash.” Among his actual auditors, however, it merely gave him an additional claim to that respect which they never
withhold from such as are believed to be the
subjects of mental alienation. The little knot of
Indians drew back in a body, and suffered, as
they thought, the conjurer and his inspired assistant to proceed.
It required no common exercise of fortitude
in Uncas and the scout to continue the dignified and deliberate pace they had assumed in
passing the lodge; especially as they immediately perceived that curiosity had so far mastered fear, as to induce the watchers to approach the hut, in order to witness the effect of
the incantations. The least injudicious or impatient movement on the part of David might be-
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tray them, and time was absolutely necessary
to insure the safety of the scout. The loud noise
the latter conceived it politic to continue, drew
many curious gazers to the doors of the different huts as thy passed; and once or twice a
dark-looking warrior stepped across their path,
led to the act by superstition and watchfulness.
They were not, however, interrupted, the darkness of the hour, and the boldness of the attempt, proving their principal friends.
The adventurers had got clear of the village,
and were now swiftly approaching the shelter of the woods, when a loud and long cry
arose from the lodge where Uncas had been
confined. The Mohican started on his feet, and
shook his shaggy covering, as though the animal he counterfeited was about to make some
desperate effort.
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“Hold!” said the scout, grasping his friend
by the shoulder, “let them yell again! ‘Twas
nothing but wonderment.”
He had no occasion to delay, for at the next
instant a burst of cries filled the outer air, and
ran along the whole extent of the village. Uncas cast his skin, and stepped forth in his own
beautiful proportions. Hawkeye tapped him
lightly on the shoulder, and glided ahead.
“Now let the devils strike our scent!” said
the scout, tearing two rifles, with all their attendant accouterments, from beneath a bush,
and flourishing “killdeer” as he handed Uncas
his weapon; “two, at least, will find it to their
deaths.”
Then, throwing their pieces to a low trail,
like sportsmen in readiness for their game, they
dashed forward, and were soon buried in the
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somber darkness of the forest.
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“Ant. I shall remember:
When C’sar says
Do this, it is performed.”
–Julius Caesar
THE IMPATIENCE OF the savages who lingered about the prison of Uncas, as has been
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seen, had overcome their dread of the conjurer’s breath. They stole cautiously, and with
beating hearts, to a crevice, through which the
faint light of the fire was glimmering. For several minutes they mistook the form of David
for that of the prisoner; but the very accident
which Hawkeye had foreseen occurred. Tired
of keeping the extremities of his long person
so near together, the singer gradually suffered
the lower limbs to extend themselves, until one
of his misshapen feet actually came in contact
with and shoved aside the embers of the fire.
At first the Hurons believed the Delaware had
been thus deformed by witchcraft. But when
David, unconscious of being observed, turned
his head, and exposed his simple, mild countenance, in place of the haughty lineaments
of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the
credulity of even a native to have doubted
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any longer. They rushed together into the
lodge, and, laying their hands, with but little ceremony, on their captive, immediately detected the imposition. Then arose the cry first
heard by the fugitives. It was succeeded by
the most frantic and angry demonstrations of
vengeance. David, however, firm in his determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was
compelled to believe that his own final hour
had come. Deprived of his book and his pipe,
he was fain to trust to a memory that rarely
failed him on such subjects; and breaking forth
in a loud and impassioned strain, he endeavored to smooth his passage into the other world
by singing the opening verse of a funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably reminded
of his infirmity, and, rushing into the open
air, they aroused the village in the manner described.
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A native warrior fights as he sleeps, without the protection of anything defensive. The
sounds of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered before two hundred men were afoot, and
ready for the battle or the chase, as either might
be required. The escape was soon known; and
the whole tribe crowded, in a body, around
the council-lodge, impatiently awaiting the instruction of their chiefs. In such a sudden demand on their wisdom, the presence of the
cunning Magua could scarcely fail of being
needed. His name was mentioned, and all
looked round in wonder that he did not appear.
Messengers were then despatched to his lodge
requiring his presence.
In the meantime, some of the swiftest and
most discreet of the young men were ordered
to make the circuit of the clearing, under cover
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of the woods, in order to ascertain that their
suspected neighbors, the Delawares, designed
no mischief. Women and children ran to and
fro; and, in short, the whole encampment exhibited another scene of wild and savage confusion. Gradually, however, these symptoms
of disorder diminished; and in a few minutes
the oldest and most distinguished chiefs were
assembled in the lodge, in grave consultation.
The clamor of many voices soon announced
that a party approached, who might be expected to communicate some intelligence that
would explain the mystery of the novel surprise. The crowd without gave way, and several warriors entered the place, bringing with
them the hapless conjurer, who had been left
so long by the scout in duress.
Notwithstanding this man was held in very
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unequal estimation among the Hurons, some
believing implicitly in his power, and others
deeming him an impostor, he was now listened
to by all with the deepest attention. When his
brief story was ended, the father of the sick
woman stepped forth, and, in a few pithy expression, related, in his turn, what he knew.
These two narratives gave a proper direction
to the subsequent inquiries, which were now
made with the characteristic cunning of savages.
Instead of rushing in a confused and disorderly throng to the cavern, ten of the wisest
and firmest among the chiefs were selected to
prosecute the investigation. As no time was
to be lost, the instant the choice was made the
individuals appointed rose in a body and left
the place without speaking. On reaching the
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entrance, the younger men in advance made
way for their seniors; and the whole proceeded
along the low, dark gallery, with the firmness
of warriors ready to devote themselves to the
public good, though, at the same time, secretly
doubting the nature of the power with which
they were about to contend.
The outer apartment of the cavern was silent
and gloomy. The woman lay in her usual place
and posture, though there were those present
who affirmed they had seen her borne to the
woods by the supposed “medicine of the white
men.” Such a direct and palpable contradiction
of the tale related by the father caused all eyes
to be turned on him. Chafed by the silent imputation, and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a circumstance, the chief advanced to the
side of the bed, and, stooping, cast an incredu-
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lous look at the features, as if distrusting their
reality. His daughter was dead.
The unerring feeling of nature for a moment
prevailed and the old warrior hid his eyes in
sorrow. Then, recovering his self-possession,
he faced his companions, and, pointing toward
the corpse, he said, in the language of his people:
“The wife of my young man has left us! The
Great Spirit is angry with his children.”
The mournful intelligence was received in
solemn silence. After a short pause, one of the
elder Indians was about to speak, when a darklooking object was seen rolling out of an adjoining apartment, into the very center of the room
where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the
beings they had to deal with, the whole party
drew back a little, and, rising on end, exhibited
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the distorted but still fierce and sullen features
of Magua. The discovery was succeeded by a
general exclamation of amazement.
As soon, however, as the true situation of
the chief was understood, several knives appeared, and his limbs and tongue were quickly
released. The Huron arose, and shook himself
like a lion quitting his lair. Not a word escaped
him, though his hand played convulsively with
the handle of his knife, while his lowering eyes
scanned the whole party, as if they sought an
object suited to the first burst of his vengeance.
It was happy for Uncas and the scout, and
even David, that they were all beyond the
reach of his arm at such a moment; for, assuredly, no refinement in cruelty would then
have deferred their deaths, in opposition to
the promptings of the fierce temper that nearly
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choked him. Meeting everywhere faces that
he knew as friends, the savage grated his teeth
together like rasps of iron, and swallowed his
passion for want of a victim on whom to vent
it. This exhibition of anger was noted by all
present; and from an apprehension of exasperating a temper that was already chafed nearly
to madness, several minutes were suffered to
pass before another word was uttered. When,
however, suitable time had elapsed, the oldest
of the party spoke.
“My friend has found an enemy,” he said. “Is
he nigh that the Hurons might take revenge?”
“Let the Delaware die!” exclaimed Magua,
in a voice of thunder.
Another longer and expressive silence was
observed, and was broken, as before, with due
precaution, by the same individual.
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“The Mohican is swift of foot, and leaps far,”
he said; “but my young men are on his trail.”
“Is he gone?” demanded Magua, in tones so
deep and guttural, that they seemed to proceed
from his inmost chest.
“An evil spirit has been among us, and the
Delaware has blinded our eyes.”
“An evil spirit!” repeated the other, mockingly; “‘tis the spirit that has taken the lives
of so many Hurons; the spirit that slew my
young men at ‘the tumbling river’; that took
their scalps at the ‘healing spring’; and who
has, now, bound the arms of Le Renard Subtil!”
“Of whom does my friend speak?”
“Of the dog who carries the heart and cunning of a Huron under a pale skin–La Longue
Carabine.”
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The pronunciation of so terrible a name produced the usual effect among his auditors.
But when time was given for reflection, and
the warriors remembered that their formidable
and daring enemy had even been in the bosom
of their encampment, working injury, fearful
rage took the place of wonder, and all those
fierce passions with which the bosom of Magua
had just been struggling were suddenly transferred to his companions. Some among them
gnashed their teeth in anger, others vented
their feelings in yells, and some, again, beat the
air as frantically as if the object of their resentment were suffering under their blows. But this
sudden outbreaking of temper as quickly subsided in the still and sullen restraint they most
affected in their moments of inaction.
Magua, who had in his turn found leisure
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for reflection, now changed his manner, and assumed the air of one who knew how to think
and act with a dignity worthy of so grave a subject.
“Let us go to my people,” he said; “they wait
for us.”
His companions consented in silence, and
the whole of the savage party left the cavern and returned to the council-lodge. When
they were seated, all eyes turned on Magua,
who understood, from such an indication, that,
by common consent, they had devolved the
duty of relating what had passed on him. He
arose, and told his tale without duplicity or
reservation. The whole deception practised by
both Duncan and Hawkeye was, of course, laid
naked, and no room was found, even for the
most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to
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affix a doubt on the character of the occurrences. It was but too apparent that they had
been insultingly, shamefully, disgracefully deceived. When he had ended, and resumed
his seat, the collected tribe–for his auditors, in
substance, included all the fighting men of the
party–sat regarding each other like men astonished equally at the audacity and the success
of their enemies. The next consideration, however, was the means and opportunities for revenge.
Additional pursuers were sent on the trail
of the fugitives; and then the chiefs applied
themselves, in earnest, to the business of consultation. Many different expedients were proposed by the elder warriors, in succession, to
all of which Magua was a silent and respectful listener. That subtle savage had recovered
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his artifice and self-command, and now proceeded toward his object with his customary
caution and skill. It was only when each one
disposed to speak had uttered his sentiments,
that he prepared to advance his own opinions. They were given with additional weight
from the circumstance that some of the runners had already returned, and reported that
their enemies had been traced so far as to leave
no doubt of their having sought safety in the
neighboring camp of their suspected allies, the
Delawares. With the advantage of possessing
this important intelligence, the chief warily laid
his plans before his fellows, and, as might have
been anticipated from his eloquence and cunning, they were adopted without a dissenting
voice. They were, briefly, as follows, both in
opinions and in motives.
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It has been already stated that, in obedience to a policy rarely departed from, the sisters were separated so soon as they reached
the Huron village. Magua had early discovered that in retaining the person of Alice, he
possessed the most effectual check on Cora.
When they parted, therefore, he kept the former within reach of his hand, consigning the
one he most valued to the keeping of their allies. The arrangement was understood to be
merely temporary, and was made as much with
a view to flatter his neighbors as in obedience
to the invariable rule of Indian policy.
While goaded incessantly by these revengeful impulses that in a savage seldom slumber,
the chief was still attentive to his more permanent personal interests. The follies and disloyalty committed in his youth were to be expiated
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by a long and painful penance, ere he could
be restored to the full enjoyment of the confidence of his ancient people; and without confidence there could be no authority in an Indian
tribe. In this delicate and arduous situation,
the crafty native had neglected no means of increasing his influence; and one of the happiest of his expedients had been the success with
which he had cultivated the favor of their powerful and dangerous neighbors. The result of
his experiment had answered all the expectations of his policy; for the Hurons were in no
degree exempt from that governing principle
of nature, which induces man to value his gifts
precisely in the degree that they are appreciated by others.
But, while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general considerations, Magua never
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lost sight of his individual motives. The latter
had been frustrated by the unlooked-for events
which had placed all his prisoners beyond his
control; and he now found himself reduced to
the necessity of suing for favors to those whom
it had so lately been his policy to oblige.
Several of the chiefs had proposed deep and
treacherous schemes to surprise the Delawares
and, by gaining possession of their camp, to recover their prisoners by the same blow; for all
agreed that their honor, their interests, and the
peace and happiness of their dead countrymen,
imperiously required them speedily to immolate some victims to their revenge. But plans
so dangerous to attempt, and of such doubtful issue, Magua found little difficulty in defeating. He exposed their risk and fallacy with
his usual skill; and it was only after he had re-
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moved every impediment, in the shape of opposing advice, that he ventured to propose his
own projects.
He commenced by flattering the self-love of
his auditors; a never-failing method of commanding attention. When he had enumerated the many different occasions on which
the Hurons had exhibited their courage and
prowess, in the punishment of insults, he digressed in a high encomium on the virtue of
wisdom. He painted the quality as forming
the great point of difference between the beaver
and other brutes; between the brutes and men;
and, finally, between the Hurons, in particular,
and the rest of the human race. After he had
sufficiently extolled the property of discretion,
he undertook to exhibit in what manner its use
was applicable to the present situation of their
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CHAPTER 27
tribe. On the one hand, he said, was their
great pale father, the governor of the Canadas,
who had looked upon his children with a hard
eye since their tomahawks had been so red; on
the other, a people as numerous as themselves,
who spoke a different language, possessed different interests, and loved them not, and who
would be glad of any pretense to bring them
in disgrace with the great white chief. Then
he spoke of their necessities; of the gifts they
had a right to expect for their past services;
of their distance from their proper huntinggrounds and native villages; and of the necessity of consulting prudence more, and inclination less, in so critical circumstances. When he
perceived that, while the old men applauded
his moderation, many of the fiercest and most
distinguished of the warriors listened to these
politic plans with lowering looks, he cunningly
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CHAPTER 27
led them back to the subject which they most
loved. He spoke openly of the fruits of their
wisdom, which he boldly pronounced would
be a complete and final triumph over their enemies. He even darkly hinted that their success might be extended, with proper caution, in
such a manner as to include the destruction of
all whom they had reason to hate. In short, he
so blended the warlike with the artful, the obvious with the obscure, as to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each subject of hope, while neither could say it clearly
comprehended his intentions.
The orator, or the politician, who can produce such a state of things, is commonly popular with his contemporaries, however he may
be treated by posterity. All perceived that more
was meant than was uttered, and each one be-
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lieved that the hidden meaning was precisely
such as his own faculties enabled him to understand, or his own wishes led him to anticipate.
In this happy state of things, it is not surprising that the management of Magua prevailed.
The tribe consented to act with deliberation,
and with one voice they committed the direction of the whole affair to the government of
the chief who had suggested such wise and intelligible expedients.
Magua had now attained one great object of
all his cunning and enterprise. The ground he
had lost in the favor of his people was completely regained, and he found himself even
placed at the head of affairs. He was, in truth,
their ruler; and, so long as he could maintain his popularity, no monarch could be more
despotic, especially while the tribe continued
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in a hostile country. Throwing off, therefore,
the appearance of consultation, he assumed the
grave air of authority necessary to support the
dignity of his office.
Runners were despatched for intelligence
in different directions; spies were ordered to
approach and feel the encampment of the
Delawares; the warriors were dismissed to
their lodges, with an intimation that their services would soon be needed; and the women
and children were ordered to retire, with a
warning that it was their province to be silent.
When these several arrangements were made,
Magua passed through the village, stopping
here and there to pay a visit where he thought
his presence might be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his friends in their confidence, fixed the wavering, and gratified all.
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CHAPTER 27
Then he sought his own lodge. The wife the
Huron chief had abandoned, when he was
chased from among his people, was dead. Children he had none; and he now occupied a hut,
without companion of any sort. It was, in fact,
the dilapidated and solitary structure in which
David had been discovered, and whom he had
tolerated in his presence, on those few occasions when they met, with the contemptuous
indifference of a haughty superiority.
Hither, then, Magua retired, when his labors
of policy were ended. While others slept,
however, he neither knew or sought repose.
Had there been one sufficiently curious to have
watched the movements of the newly elected
chief, he would have seen him seated in a corner of his lodge, musing on the subject of his
future plans, from the hour of his retirement to
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the time he had appointed for the warriors to
assemble again. Occasionally the air breathed
through the crevices of the hut, and the low
flame that fluttered about the embers of the fire
threw their wavering light on the person of the
sullen recluse. At such moments it would not
have been difficult to have fancied the dusky
savage the Prince of Darkness brooding on his
own fancied wrongs, and plotting evil.
Long before the day dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the solitary hut of
Magua, until they had collected to the number of twenty. Each bore his rifle, and all
the other accouterments of war, though the
paint was uniformly peaceful. The entrance
of these fierce-looking beings was unnoticed:
some seating themselves in the shadows of the
place, and others standing like motionless stat-
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ues, until the whole of the designated band was
collected.
Then Magua arose and gave the signal to
proceed, marching himself in advance. They
followed their leader singly, and in that wellknown order which has obtained the distinguishing appellation of “Indian file.” Unlike
other men engaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they stole from their camp unostentatiously and unobserved resembling a
band of gliding specters, more than warriors
seeking the bubble reputation by deeds of desperate daring.
Instead of taking the path which led directly
toward the camp of the Delawares, Magua led
his party for some distance down the windings of the stream, and along the little artificial
lake of the beavers. The day began to dawn
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as they entered the clearing which had been
formed by those sagacious and industrious animals. Though Magua, who had resumed his
ancient garb, bore the outline of a fox on the
dressed skin which formed his robe, there was
one chief of his party who carried the beaver as
his peculiar symbol, or “totem.” There would
have been a species of profanity in the omission, had this man passed so powerful a community of his fancied kindred, without bestowing some evidence of his regard. Accordingly,
he paused, and spoke in words as kind and
friendly as if he were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his cousins,
and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason they remained unharmed,
while many avaricious traders were prompting
the Indians to take their lives. He promised
a continuance of his favors, and admonished
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them to be grateful. After which, he spoke
of the expedition in which he was himself engaged, and intimated, though with sufficient
delicacy and circumlocution, the expediency of
bestowing on their relative a portion of that
wisdom for which they were so renowned20
During the utterance of this extraordinary
address, the companions of the speaker were
as grave and as attentive to his language as
though they were all equally impressed with
its propriety. Once or twice black objects were
seen rising to the surface of the water, and
the Huron expressed pleasure, conceiving that
20 These harangues of the beasts were frequent
among the Indians. They often address their victims in
this way, reproaching them for cowardice or commending their resolution, as they may happen to exhibit fortitude or the reverse, in suffering.
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his words were not bestowed in vain. Just
as he ended his address, the head of a large
beaver was thrust from the door of a lodge,
whose earthen walls had been much injured,
and which the party had believed, from its situation, to be uninhabited. Such an extraordinary
sign of confidence was received by the orator
as a highly favorable omen; and though the animal retreated a little precipitately, he was lavish of his thanks and commendations.
When Magua thought sufficient time had
been lost in gratifying the family affection of
the warrior, he again made the signal to proceed. As the Indians moved away in a body,
and with a step that would have been inaudible to the ears of any common man, the same
venerable-looking beaver once more ventured
his head from its cover. Had any of the Hurons
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turned to look behind them, they would have
seen the animal watching their movements
with an interest and sagacity that might easily
have been mistaken for reason. Indeed, so very
distinct and intelligible were the devices of the
quadruped, that even the most experienced observer would have been at a loss to account for
its actions, until the moment when the party
entered the forest, when the whole would have
been explained, by seeing the entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing, by the act, the
grave features of Chingachgook from his mask
of fur.
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“Brief, I pray for you; for you see,
‘tis a busy time with me.”
–Much Ado About Nothing.
THE TRIBE, OR rather half tribe, of
Delawares, which has been so often mentioned, and whose present place of encamp-
913
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ment was so nigh the temporary village of
the Hurons, could assemble about an equal
number of warriors with the latter people. Like
their neighbors, they had followed Montcalm
into the territories of the English crown, and
were making heavy and serious inroads on the
hunting-grounds of the Mohawks; though they
had seen fit, with the mysterious reserve so
common among the natives, to withhold their
assistance at the moment when it was most
required. The French had accounted for this
unexpected defection on the part of their ally
in various ways. It was the prevalent opinion,
however, that they had been influenced by
veneration for the ancient treaty, that had once
made them dependent on the Six Nations for
military protection, and now rendered them
reluctant to encounter their former masters.
As for the tribe itself, it had been content to an-
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nounce to Montcalm, through his emissaries,
with Indian brevity, that their hatchets were
dull, and time was necessary to sharpen them.
The politic captain of the Canadas had deemed
it wiser to submit to entertain a passive friend,
than by any acts of ill-judged severity to
convert him into an open enemy.
On that morning when Magua led his silent
party from the settlement of the beavers into
the forests, in the manner described, the sun
rose upon the Delaware encampment as if it
had suddenly burst upon a busy people, actively employed in all the customary avocations of high noon. The women ran from
lodge to lodge, some engaged in preparing
their morning’s meal, a few earnestly bent on
seeking the comforts necessary to their habits,
but more pausing to exchange hasty and whis-
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pered sentences with their friends. The warriors were lounging in groups, musing more
than they conversed and when a few words
were uttered, speaking like men who deeply
weighed their opinions. The instruments of the
chase were to be seen in abundance among the
lodges; but none departed. Here and there a
warrior was examining his arms, with an attention that is rarely bestowed on the implements,
when no other enemy than the beasts of the forest is expected to be encountered. And occasionally, the eyes of a whole group were turned
simultaneously toward a large and silent lodge
in the center of the village, as if it contained the
subject of their common thoughts.
During the existence of this scene, a man
suddenly appeared at the furthest extremity of
a platform of rock which formed the level of
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the village. He was without arms, and his paint
tended rather to soften than increase the natural sternness of his austere countenance. When
in full view of the Delawares he stopped, and
made a gesture of amity, by throwing his arm
upward toward heaven, and then letting it fall
impressively on his breast. The inhabitants of
the village answered his salute by a low murmur of welcome, and encouraged him to advance by similar indications of friendship. Fortified by these assurances, the dark figure left
the brow of the natural rocky terrace, where it
had stood a moment, drawn in a strong outline
against the blushing morning sky, and moved
with dignity into the very center of the huts.
As he approached, nothing was audible but
the rattling of the light silver ornaments that
loaded his arms and neck, and the tinkling of
the little bells that fringed his deerskin moc-
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casins. He made, as he advanced, many courteous signs of greeting to the men he passed,
neglecting to notice the women, however, like
one who deemed their favor, in the present
enterprise, of no importance. When he had
reached the group in which it was evident, by
the haughtiness of their common mien, that
the principal chiefs were collected, the stranger
paused, and then the Delawares saw that the
active and erect form that stood before them
was that of the well-known Huron chief, Le Renard Subtil.
His reception was grave, silent, and wary.
The warriors in front stepped aside, opening
the way to their most approved orator by the
action; one who spoke all those languages that
were cultivated among the northern aborigines.
918
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“The wise Huron is welcome,” said the
Delaware, in the language of the Maquas; “he
is come to eat his ‘succotash’21 , with his brothers of the lakes.”
“He is come,” repeated Magua, bending his
head with the dignity of an eastern prince.
The chief extended his arm and taking the
other by the wrist, they once more exchanged
friendly salutations. Then the Delaware invited his guest to enter his own lodge, and
share his morning meal. The invitation was accepted; and the two warriors, attended by three
or four of the old men, walked calmly away,
leaving the rest of the tribe devoured by a desire to understand the reasons of so unusual a
21 A dish composed of cracked corn and beans. It is
much used also by the whites. By corn is meant maise.
919
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visit, and yet not betraying the least impatience
by sign or word.
During the short and frugal repast that followed, the conversation was extremely circumspect, and related entirely to the events of the
hunt, in which Magua had so lately been engaged. It would have been impossible for the
most finished breeding to wear more of the
appearance of considering the visit as a thing
of course, than did his hosts, notwithstanding
every individual present was perfectly aware
that it must be connected with some secret object and that probably of importance to themselves. When the appetites of the whole were
appeased, the squaws removed the trenchers
and gourds, and the two parties began to prepare themselves for a subtle trial of their wits.
“Is the face of my great Canada father turned
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again toward his Huron children?” demanded
the orator of the Delawares.
“When was it ever otherwise?” returned
Magua. “He calls my people ‘most beloved’.”
The Delaware gravely bowed his acquiescence to what he knew to be false, and continued:
“The tomahawks of your young men have
been very red.”
“It is so; but they are now bright and dull;
for the Yengeese are dead, and the Delawares
are our neighbors.”
The other acknowledged the pacific compliment by a gesture of the hand, and remained
silent. Then Magua, as if recalled to such a recollection, by the allusion to the massacre, demanded:
921
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“Does my prisoner give trouble to my brothers?”
“She is welcome.”
“The path between the Hurons and the
Delawares is short and it is open; let her be
sent to my squaws, if she gives trouble to my
brother.”
“She is welcome,” returned the chief of the
latter nation, still more emphatically.
The baffled Magua continued silent several
minutes, apparently indifferent, however, to
the repulse he had received in this his opening
effort to regain possession of Cora.
“Do my young men leave the Delawares
room on the mountains for their hunts?” he at
length continued.
922
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“The Lenape are rulers of their own hills,”
returned the other a little haughtily.
“It is well. Justice is the master of a redskin. Why should they brighten their tomahawks and sharpen their knives against each
other? Are not the pale faces thicker than the
swallows in the season of flowers?”
“Good!” exclaimed two or three of his auditors at the same time.
Magua waited a little, to permit his words to
soften the feelings of the Delawares, before he
added:
“Have there not been strange moccasins in
the woods? Have not my brothers scented the
feet of white men?”
“Let my Canada father come,” returned the
other, evasively; “his children are ready to see
him.”
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CHAPTER 28
“When the great chief comes, it is to smoke
with the Indians in their wigwams. The
Hurons say, too, he is welcome. But the
Yengeese have long arms, and legs that never
tire! My young men dreamed they had seen
the trail of the Yengeese nigh the village of the
Delawares!”
“They will not find the Lenape asleep.”
“It is well. The warrior whose eye is open
can see his enemy,” said Magua, once more
shifting his ground, when he found himself unable to penetrate the caution of his companion.
“I have brought gifts to my brother. His nation
would not go on the warpath, because they did
not think it well, but their friends have remembered where they lived.”
When he had thus announced his liberal
intention, the crafty chief arose, and gravely
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spread his presents before the dazzled eyes of
his hosts. They consisted principally of trinkets
of little value, plundered from the slaughtered
females of William Henry. In the division of the
baubles the cunning Huron discovered no less
art than in their selection. While he bestowed
those of greater value on the two most distinguished warriors, one of whom was his host,
he seasoned his offerings to their inferiors with
such well-timed and apposite compliments, as
left them no ground of complaint. In short,
the whole ceremony contained such a happy
blending of the profitable with the flattering,
that it was not difficult for the donor immediately to read the effect of a generosity so aptly
mingled with praise, in the eyes of those he addressed.
This well-judged and politic stroke on the
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part of Magua was not without instantaneous
results. The Delawares lost their gravity in a
much more cordial expression; and the host, in
particular, after contemplating his own liberal
share of the spoil for some moments with peculiar gratification, repeated with strong emphasis, the words:
“My brother is a wise chief. He is welcome.”
“The Hurons love their friends the
Delawares,” returned Magua. “Why should
they not? they are colored by the same sun,
and their just men will hunt in the same
grounds after death. The red-skins should be
friends, and look with open eyes on the white
men. Has not my brother scented spies in the
woods?”
The Delaware, whose name in English signified “Hard Heart,” an appellation that the
926
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French had translated into “le Coeur-dur,” forgot that obduracy of purpose, which had probably obtained him so significant a title. His
countenance grew very sensibly less stern and
he now deigned to answer more directly.
“There have been strange moccasins about
my camp. They have been tracked into my
lodges.”
“Did my brother beat out the dogs?” asked
Magua, without adverting in any manner to
the former equivocation of the chief.
“It would not do. The stranger is always
welcome to the children of the Lenape.”
“The stranger, but not the spy.”
“Would the Yengeese send their women as
spies? Did not the Huron chief say he took
women in the battle?”
927
CHAPTER 28
“He told no lie. The Yengeese have sent out
their scouts. They have been in my wigwams,
but they found there no one to say welcome.
Then they fled to the Delawares–for, say they,
the Delawares are our friends; their minds are
turned from their Canada father!”
This insinuation was a home thrust, and one
that in a more advanced state of society would
have entitled Magua to the reputation of a skillful diplomatist. The recent defection of the
tribe had, as they well knew themselves, subjected the Delawares to much reproach among
their French allies; and they were now made
to feel that their future actions were to be
regarded with jealousy and distrust. There
was no deep insight into causes and effects
necessary to foresee that such a situation of
things was likely to prove highly prejudicial
928
CHAPTER 28
to their future movements. Their distant villages, their hunting-grounds and hundreds of
their women and children, together with a material part of their physical force, were actually
within the limits of the French territory. Accordingly, this alarming annunciation was received, as Magua intended, with manifest disapprobation, if not with alarm.
“Let my father look in my face,” said Le
Coeur-dur; “he will see no change. It is true,
my young men did not go out on the war-path;
they had dreams for not doing so. But they love
and venerate the great white chief.”
“Will he think so when he hears that his
greatest enemy is fed in the camp of his children? When he is told a bloody Yengee smokes
at your fire? That the pale face who has slain so
many of his friends goes in and out among the
929
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Delawares? Go! my great Canada father is not
a fool!”
“Where is the Yengee that the Delawares
fear?” returned the other; “who has slain my
young men? Who is the mortal enemy of my
Great Father?”
“La Longue Carabine!”
The Delaware warriors started at the wellknown name, betraying by their amazement,
that they now learned, for the first time, one so
famous among the Indian allies of France was
within their power.
“What does my brother mean?” demanded
Le Coeur-dur, in a tone that, by its wonder, far
exceeded the usual apathy of his race.
“A Huron never lies!” returned Magua,
coldly, leaning his head against the side of the
930
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lodge, and drawing his slight robe across his
tawny breast. “Let the Delawares count their
prisoners; they will find one whose skin is neither red nor pale.”
A long and musing pause succeeded. The
chief consulted apart with his companions, and
messengers despatched to collect certain others
of the most distinguished men of the tribe.
As warrior after warrior dropped in, they
were each made acquainted, in turn, with the
important intelligence that Magua had just
communicated. The air of surprise, and the
usual low, deep, guttural exclamation, were
common to them all. The news spread from
mouth to mouth, until the whole encampment
became powerfully agitated. The women suspended their labors, to catch such syllables as
unguardedly fell from the lips of the consulting
931
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warriors. The boys deserted their sports, and
walking fearlessly among their fathers, looked
up in curious admiration, as they heard the
brief exclamations of wonder they so freely expressed the temerity of their hated foe. In short,
every occupation was abandoned for the time,
and all other pursuits seemed discarded in order that the tribe might freely indulge, after
their own peculiar manner, in an open expression of feeling.
When the excitement had a little abated, the
old men disposed themselves seriously to consider that which it became the honor and safety
of their tribe to perform, under circumstances
of so much delicacy and embarrassment. During all these movements, and in the midst of
the general commotion, Magua had not only
maintained his seat, but the very attitude he
932
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had originally taken, against the side of the
lodge, where he continued as immovable, and,
apparently, as unconcerned, as if he had no
interest in the result. Not a single indication
of the future intentions of his hosts, however,
escaped his vigilant eyes. With his consummate knowledge of the nature of the people
with whom he had to deal, he anticipated every measure on which they decided; and it
might almost be said, that, in many instances,
he knew their intentions, even before they became known to themselves.
The council of the Delawares was short.
When it was ended, a general bustle announced that it was to be immediately succeeded by a solemn and formal assemblage of
the nation. As such meetings were rare, and
only called on occasions of the last importance,
933
CHAPTER 28
the subtle Huron, who still sat apart, a wily and
dark observer of the proceedings, now knew
that all his projects must be brought to their
final issue. He, therefore, left the lodge and
walked silently forth to the place, in front of
the encampment, whither the warriors were already beginning to collect.
It might have been half an hour before each
individual, including even the women and
children, was in his place. The delay had been
created by the grave preparations that were
deemed necessary to so solemn and unusual a
conference. But when the sun was seen climbing above the tops of that mountain, against
whose bosom the Delawares had constructed
their encampment, most were seated; and as
his bright rays darted from behind the outline of trees that fringed the eminence, they fell
934
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upon as grave, as attentive, and as deeply interested a multitude, as was probably ever before lighted by his morning beams. Its number
somewhat exceeded a thousand souls.
In a collection of so serious savages, there
is never to be found any impatient aspirant
after premature distinction, standing ready to
move his auditors to some hasty, and, perhaps, injudicious discussion, in order that his
own reputation may be the gainer. An act of
so much precipitancy and presumption would
seal the downfall of precocious intellect forever. It rested solely with the oldest and most
experienced of the men to lay the subject of
the conference before the people. Until such a
one chose to make some movement, no deeds
in arms, no natural gifts, nor any renown as
an orator, would have justified the slightest in-
935
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terruption. On the present occasion, the aged
warrior whose privilege it was to speak, was
silent, seemingly oppressed with the magnitude of his subject. The delay had already
continued long beyond the usual deliberative
pause that always preceded a conference; but
no sign of impatience or surprise escaped even
the youngest boy. Occasionally an eye was
raised from the earth, where the looks of most
were riveted, and strayed toward a particular
lodge, that was, however, in no manner distinguished from those around it, except in the
peculiar care that had been taken to protect it
against the assaults of the weather.
At length one of those low murmurs, that
are so apt to disturb a multitude, was heard,
and the whole nation arose to their feet by a
common impulse. At that instant the door of
936
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the lodge in question opened, and three men,
issuing from it, slowly approached the place
of consultation. They were all aged, even beyond that period to which the oldest present
had reached; but one in the center, who leaned
on his companions for support, had numbered
an amount of years to which the human race is
seldom permitted to attain. His frame, which
had once been tall and erect, like the cedar, was
now bending under the pressure of more than
a century. The elastic, light step of an Indian
was gone, and in its place he was compelled
to toil his tardy way over the ground, inch by
inch. His dark, wrinkled countenance was in
singular and wild contrast with the long white
locks which floated on his shoulders, in such
thickness, as to announce that generations had
probably passed away since they had last been
shorn.
937
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The dress of this patriarch–for such, considering his vast age, in conjunction with his affinity and influence with his people, he might
very properly be termed–was rich and imposing, though strictly after the simple fashions
of the tribe. His robe was of the finest skins,
which had been deprived of their fur, in order
to admit of a hieroglyphical representation of
various deeds in arms, done in former ages.
His bosom was loaded with medals, some in
massive silver, and one or two even in gold,
the gifts of various Christian potentates during the long period of his life. He also wore
armlets, and cinctures above the ankles, of the
latter precious metal. His head, on the whole
of which the hair had been permitted to grow,
the pursuits of war having so long been abandoned, was encircled by a sort of plated diadem, which, in its turn, bore lesser and more
938
CHAPTER 28
glittering ornaments, that sparkled amid the
glossy hues of three drooping ostrich feathers,
dyed a deep black, in touching contrast to the
color of his snow-white locks. His tomahawk
was nearly hid in silver, and the handle of his
knife shone like a horn of solid gold.
So soon as the first hum of emotion and pleasure, which the sudden appearance of this venerated individual created, had a little subsided,
the name of “Tamenund” was whispered from
mouth to mouth. Magua had often heard the
fame of this wise and just Delaware; a reputation that even proceeded so far as to bestow
on him the rare gift of holding secret communion with the Great Spirit, and which has since
transmitted his name, with some slight alteration, to the white usurpers of his ancient terri-
939
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tory, as the imaginary tutelar saint22 of a vast
empire. The Huron chief, therefore, stepped
eagerly out a little from the throng, to a spot
whence he might catch a nearer glimpse of the
features of the man, whose decision was likely
to produce so deep an influence on his own fortunes.
The eyes of the old man were closed, as
though the organs were wearied with having
so long witnessed the selfish workings of the
human passions. The color of his skin differed
from that of most around him, being richer
and darker, the latter having been produced
by certain delicate and mazy lines of compli22 The Americans sometimes called their tutelar saint
Tamenay, a corruption of the name of the renowned
chief here introduced. There are many traditions which
speak of the character and power of Tamenund.
940
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cated and yet beautiful figures, which had been
traced over most of his person by the operation of tattooing. Notwithstanding the position of the Huron, he passed the observant and
silent Magua without notice, and leaning on
his two venerable supporters proceeded to the
high place of the multitude, where he seated
himself in the center of his nation, with the dignity of a monarch and the air of a father.
Nothing could surpass the reverence and affection with which this unexpected visit from
one who belongs rather to another world than
to this, was received by his people. After a
suitable and decent pause, the principal chiefs
arose, and, approaching the patriarch, they
placed his hands reverently on their heads,
seeming to entreat a blessing. The younger
men were content with touching his robe, or
941
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even drawing nigh his person, in order to
breathe in the atmosphere of one so aged, so
just, and so valiant. None but the most distinguished among the youthful warriors even
presumed so far as to perform the latter ceremony, the great mass of the multitude deeming
it a sufficient happiness to look upon a form so
deeply venerated, and so well beloved. When
these acts of affection and respect were performed, the chiefs drew back again to their several places, and silence reigned in the whole encampment.
After a short delay, a few of the young men,
to whom instructions had been whispered by
one of the aged attendants of Tamenund, arose,
left the crowd, and entered the lodge which has
already been noted as the object of so much attention throughout that morning. In a few min-
942
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utes they reappeared, escorting the individuals who had caused all these solemn preparations toward the seat of judgment. The crowd
opened in a lane; and when the party had reentered, it closed in again, forming a large and
dense belt of human bodies, arranged in an
open circle.
943
CHAPTER 29
“The assembly seated, rising o’er
the rest,
Achilles thus the king of men addressed.”
–Pope’s Illiad
CORA STOOD FOREMOST among the pris-
944
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oners, entwining her arms in those of Alice, in
the tenderness of sisterly love. Notwithstanding the fearful and menacing array of savages
on every side of her, no apprehension on her
own account could prevent the nobler-minded
maiden from keeping her eyes fastened on the
pale and anxious features of the trembling Alice. Close at their side stood Heyward, with
an interest in both, that, at such a moment of
intense uncertainty, scarcely knew a preponderance in favor of her whom he most loved.
Hawkeye had placed himself a little in the rear,
with a deference to the superior rank of his
companions, that no similarity in the state of
their present fortunes could induce him to forget. Uncas was not there.
When perfect silence was again restored, and
after the usual long, impressive pause, one of
945
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the two aged chiefs who sat at the side of the
patriarch arose, and demanded aloud, in very
intelligible English:
“Which of my prisoners is La Longue Carabine?”
Neither Duncan nor the scout answered. The
former, however, glanced his eyes around the
dark and silent assembly, and recoiled a pace,
when they fell on the malignant visage of
Magua. He saw, at once, that this wily savage had some secret agency in their present arraignment before the nation, and determined
to throw every possible impediment in the way
of the execution of his sinister plans. He had
witnessed one instance of the summary punishments of the Indians, and now dreaded that
his companion was to be selected for a second.
In this dilemma, with little or no time for reflec-
946
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tion, he suddenly determined to cloak his invaluable friend, at any or every hazard to himself. Before he had time, however, to speak, the
question was repeated in a louder voice, and
with a clearer utterance.
“Give us arms,” the young man haughtily
replied, “and place us in yonder woods. Our
deeds shall speak for us!”
“This is the warrior whose name has filled
our ears!” returned the chief, regarding Heyward with that sort of curious interest which
seems inseparable from man, when first beholding one of his fellows to whom merit or
accident, virtue or crime, has given notoriety.
“What has brought the white man into the
camp of the Delawares?”
“My necessities. I come for food, shelter, and
friends.”
947
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“It cannot be. The woods are full of game.
The head of a warrior needs no other shelter
than a sky without clouds; and the Delawares
are the enemies, and not the friends of the
Yengeese. Go, the mouth has spoken, while the
heart said nothing.”
Duncan, a little at a loss in what manner to
proceed, remained silent; but the scout, who
had listened attentively to all that passed, now
advanced steadily to the front.
“That I did not answer to the call for La
Longue Carabine, was not owing either to
shame or fear,” he said, “for neither one nor
the other is the gift of an honest man. But I do
not admit the right of the Mingoes to bestow a
name on one whose friends have been mindful
of his gifts, in this particular; especially as their
title is a lie, ‘killdeer’ being a grooved barrel
948
CHAPTER 29
and no carabyne. I am the man, however, that
got the name of Nathaniel from my kin; the
compliment of Hawkeye from the Delawares,
who live on their own river; and whom the Iroquois have presumed to style the ‘Long Rifle’,
without any warranty from him who is most
concerned in the matter.”
The eyes of all present, which had hitherto
been gravely scanning the person of Duncan,
were now turned, on the instant, toward the
upright iron frame of this new pretender to the
distinguished appellation. It was in no degree
remarkable that there should be found two
who were willing to claim so great an honor,
for impostors, though rare, were not unknown
among the natives; but it was altogether material to the just and severe intentions of the
Delawares, that there should be no mistake in
949
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the matter. Some of their old men consulted together in private, and then, as it would seem,
they determined to interrogate their visitor on
the subject.
“My brother has said that a snake crept into
my camp,” said the chief to Magua; “which is
he?”
The Huron pointed to the scout.
“Will a wise Delaware believe the barking
of a wolf?” exclaimed Duncan, still more confirmed in the evil intentions of his ancient enemy: “a dog never lies, but when was a wolf
known to speak the truth?”
The eyes of Magua flashed fire; but suddenly recollecting the necessity of maintaining
his presence of mind, he turned away in silent
disdain, well assured that the sagacity of the Indians would not fail to extract the real merits of
950
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the point in controversy. He was not deceived;
for, after another short consultation, the wary
Delaware turned to him again, and expressed
the determination of the chiefs, though in the
most considerate language.
“My brother has been called a liar,” he said,
“and his friends are angry. They will show that
he has spoken the truth. Give my prisoners
guns, and let them prove which is the man.”
Magua affected to consider the expedient,
which he well knew proceeded from distrust of
himself, as a compliment, and made a gesture
of acquiescence, well content that his veracity
should be supported by so skillful a marksman as the scout. The weapons were instantly
placed in the hands of the friendly opponents,
and they were bid to fire, over the heads of the
seated multitude, at an earthen vessel, which
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lay, by accident, on a stump, some fifty yards
from the place where they stood.
Heyward smiled to himself at the idea of a
competition with the scout, though he determined to persevere in the deception, until apprised of the real designs of Magua.
Raising his rifle with the utmost care, and renewing his aim three several times, he fired.
The bullet cut the wood within a few inches
of the vessel; and a general exclamation of
satisfaction announced that the shot was considered a proof of great skill in the use of a
weapon. Even Hawkeye nodded his head, as
if he would say, it was better than he expected.
But, instead of manifesting an intention to contend with the successful marksman, he stood
leaning on his rifle for more than a minute, like
a man who was completely buried in thought.
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From this reverie, he was, however, awakened
by one of the young Indians who had furnished
the arms, and who now touched his shoulder,
saying in exceedingly broken English:
“Can the pale face beat it?”
“Yes, Huron!” exclaimed the scout, raising
the short rifle in his right hand, and shaking
it at Magua, with as much apparent ease as if
it were a reed; “yes, Huron, I could strike you
now, and no power on earth could prevent the
deed! The soaring hawk is not more certain of
the dove than I am this moment of you, did
I choose to send a bullet to your heart! Why
should I not? Why!–because the gifts of my
color forbid it, and I might draw down evil on
tender and innocent heads. If you know such
a being as God, thank Him, therefore, in your
inward soul; for you have reason!”
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The flushed countenance, angry eye and
swelling figure of the scout, produced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The
Delawares held their breath in expectation; but
Magua himself, even while he distrusted the
forbearance of his enemy, remained immovable
and calm, where he stood wedged in by the
crowd, as one who grew to the spot.
“Beat it,” repeated the young Delaware at
the elbow of the scout.
“Beat what, fool!–what?” exclaimed Hawkeye, still flourishing the weapon angrily above
his head, though his eye no longer sought the
person of Magua.
“If the white man is the warrior he pretends,” said the aged chief, “let him strike
nigher to the mark.”
The scout laughed aloud–a noise that pro-
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duced the startling effect of an unnatural sound
on Heyward; then dropping the piece, heavily,
into his extended left hand, it was discharged,
apparently by the shock, driving the fragments
of the vessel into the air, and scattering them
on every side. Almost at the same instant, the
rattling sound of the rifle was heard, as he suffered it to fall, contemptuously, to the earth.
The first impression of so strange a scene
was engrossing admiration. Then a low, but increasing murmur, ran through the multitude,
and finally swelled into sounds that denoted a
lively opposition in the sentiments of the spectators. While some openly testified their satisfaction at so unexampled dexterity, by far the
larger portion of the tribe were inclined to believe the success of the shot was the result of
accident. Heyward was not slow to confirm an
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opinion that was so favorable to his own pretensions.
“It was chance!” he exclaimed; “none can
shoot without an aim!”
“Chance!” echoed the excited woodsman,
who was now stubbornly bent on maintaining
his identity at every hazard, and on whom the
secret hints of Heyward to acquiesce in the deception were entirely lost. “Does yonder lying
Huron, too, think it chance? Give him another
gun, and place us face to face, without cover or
dodge, and let Providence, and our own eyes,
decide the matter atween us! I do not make the
offer, to you, major; for our blood is of a color,
and we serve the same master.”
“That the Huron is a liar, is very evident,”
returned Heyward, coolly; “you have yourself
heard him assert you to be La Longue Cara-
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bine.”
It were impossible to say what violent assertion the stubborn Hawkeye would have next
made, in his headlong wish to vindicate his
identity, had not the aged Delaware once more
interposed.
“The hawk which comes from the clouds can
return when he will,” he said; “give them the
guns.”
This time the scout seized the rifle with avidity; nor had Magua, though he watched the
movements of the marksman with jealous eyes,
any further cause for apprehension.
“Now let it be proved, in the face of this tribe
of Delawares, which is the better man,” cried
the scout, tapping the butt of his piece with that
finger which had pulled so many fatal triggers.
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“You see that gourd hanging against yonder
tree, major; if you are a marksman fit for the
borders, let me see you break its shell!”
Duncan noted the object, and prepared himself to renew the trial. The gourd was one
of the usual little vessels used by the Indians,
and it was suspended from a dead branch of
a small pine, by a thong of deerskin, at the
full distance of a hundred yards. So strangely
compounded is the feeling of self-love, that the
young soldier, while he knew the utter worthlessness of the suffrages of his savage umpires,
forgot the sudden motives of the contest in a
wish to excel. It had been seen, already, that
his skill was far from being contemptible, and
he now resolved to put forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended on the issue, the
aim of Duncan could not have been more de-
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liberate or guarded. He fired; and three or four
young Indians, who sprang forward at the report, announced with a shout, that the ball was
in the tree, a very little on one side of the proper
object. The warriors uttered a common ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned their eyes,
inquiringly, on the movements of his rival.
“It may do for the Royal Americans!” said
Hawkeye, laughing once more in his own
silent, heartfelt manner; “but had my gun often turned so much from the true line, many
a marten, whose skin is now in a lady’s muff,
would still be in the woods; ay, and many a
bloody Mingo, who has departed to his final
account, would be acting his deviltries at this
very day, atween the provinces. I hope the
squaw who owns the gourd has more of them
in her wigwam, for this will never hold water
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again!”
The scout had shook his priming, and
cocked his piece, while speaking; and, as he
ended, he threw back a foot, and slowly raised
the muzzle from the earth: the motion was
steady, uniform, and in one direction. When on
a perfect level, it remained for a single moment,
without tremor or variation, as though both
man and rifle were carved in stone. During that
stationary instant, it poured forth its contents,
in a bright, glancing sheet of flame. Again the
young Indians bounded forward; but their hurried search and disappointed looks announced
that no traces of the bullet were to be seen.
“Go!” said the old chief to the scout, in a tone
of strong disgust; “thou art a wolf in the skin
of a dog. I will talk to the ‘Long Rifle’ of the
Yengeese.”
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“Ah! had I that piece which furnished the
name you use, I would obligate myself to cut
the thong, and drop the gourd without breaking it!” returned Hawkeye, perfectly undisturbed by the other’s manner. “Fools, if you
would find the bullet of a sharpshooter in these
woods, you must look in the object, and not
around it!”
The Indian youths instantly comprehended
his meaning–for this time he spoke in the
Delaware tongue–and tearing the gourd from
the tree, they held it on high with an exulting shout, displaying a hole in its bottom,
which had been cut by the bullet, after passing through the usual orifice in the center of
its upper side. At this unexpected exhibition,
a loud and vehement expression of pleasure
burst from the mouth of every warrior present.
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It decided the question, and effectually established Hawkeye in the possession of his dangerous reputation. Those curious and admiring eyes which had been turned again on Heyward, were finally directed to the weatherbeaten form of the scout, who immediately became the principal object of attention to the
simple and unsophisticated beings by whom
he was surrounded. When the sudden and
noisy commotion had a little subsided, the
aged chief resumed his examination.
“Why did you wish to stop my ears?” he
said, addressing Duncan; “are the Delawares
fools that they could not know the young panther from the cat?”
“They will yet find the Huron a singingbird,” said Duncan, endeavoring to adopt the
figurative language of the natives.
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“It is good. We will know who can shut the
ears of men. Brother,” added the chief turning
his eyes on Magua, “the Delawares listen.”
Thus singled, and directly called on to declare his object, the Huron arose; and advancing with great deliberation and dignity into the
very center of the circle, where he stood confronted by the prisoners, he placed himself in
an attitude to speak. Before opening his mouth,
however, he bent his eyes slowly along the
whole living boundary of earnest faces, as if
to temper his expressions to the capacities of
his audience. On Hawkeye he cast a glance
of respectful enmity; on Duncan, a look of inextinguishable hatred; the shrinking figure of
Alice he scarcely deigned to notice; but when
his glance met the firm, commanding, and yet
lovely form of Cora, his eye lingered a mo-
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ment, with an expression that it might have
been difficult to define. Then, filled with his
own dark intentions, he spoke in the language
of the Canadas, a tongue that he well knew was
comprehended by most of his auditors.
“The Spirit that made men colored them differently,” commenced the subtle Huron. “Some
are blacker than the sluggish bear. These He
said should be slaves; and He ordered them
to work forever, like the beaver. You may
hear them groan, when the south wind blows,
louder than the lowing buffaloes, along the
shores of the great salt lake, where the big canoes come and go with them in droves. Some
He made with faces paler than the ermine of
the forests; and these He ordered to be traders;
dogs to their women, and wolves to their
slaves. He gave this people the nature of the pi-
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geon; wings that never tire; young, more plentiful than the leaves on the trees, and appetites
to devour the earth. He gave them tongues like
the false call of the wildcat; hearts like rabbits;
the cunning of the hog (but none of the fox),
and arms longer than the legs of the moose.
With his tongue he stops the ears of the Indians;
his heart teaches him to pay warriors to fight
his battles; his cunning tells him how to get together the goods of the earth; and his arms inclose the land from the shores of the salt-water
to the islands of the great lake. His gluttony
makes him sick. God gave him enough, and
yet he wants all. Such are the pale faces.
“Some the Great Spirit made with skins
brighter and redder than yonder sun,” continued Magua, pointing impressively upward
to the lurid luminary, which was struggling
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through the misty atmosphere of the horizon;
“and these did He fashion to His own mind.
He gave them this island as He had made it,
covered with trees, and filled with game. The
wind made their clearings; the sun and rain
ripened their fruits; and the snows came to tell
them to be thankful. What need had they of
roads to journey by! They saw through the
hills! When the beavers worked, they lay in
the shade, and looked on. The winds cooled
them in summer; in winter, skins kept them
warm. If they fought among themselves, it was
to prove that they were men. They were brave;
they were just; they were happy.”
Here the speaker paused, and again looked
around him to discover if his legend had
touched the sympathies of his listeners. He
met everywhere, with eyes riveted on his own,
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heads erect and nostrils expanded, as if each individual present felt himself able and willing,
singly, to redress the wrongs of his race.
“If the Great Spirit gave different tongues
to his red children,” he continued, in a low,
still melancholy voice, “it was that all animals might understand them. Some He placed
among the snows, with their cousin, the bear.
Some he placed near the setting sun, on the
road to the happy hunting grounds. Some on
the lands around the great fresh waters; but to
His greatest, and most beloved, He gave the
sands of the salt lake. Do my brothers know
the name of this favored people?”
“It was the Lenape!” exclaimed twenty eager
voices in a breath.
“It was the Lenni Lenape,” returned Magua,
affecting to bend his head in reverence to their
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former greatness. “It was the tribes of the
Lenape! The sun rose from water that was salt,
and set in water that was sweet, and never hid
himself from their eyes. But why should I, a
Huron of the woods, tell a wise people their
own traditions? Why remind them of their injuries; their ancient greatness; their deeds; their
glory; their happiness; their losses; their defeats; their misery? Is there not one among
them who has seen it all, and who knows it to
be true? I have done. My tongue is still for my
heart is of lead. I listen.”
As the voice of the speaker suddenly ceased,
every face and all eyes turned, by a common
movement, toward the venerable Tamenund.
From the moment that he took his seat, until
the present instant, the lips of the patriarch had
not severed, and scarcely a sign of life had es-
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caped him. He sat bent in feebleness, and apparently unconscious of the presence he was
in, during the whole of that opening scene, in
which the skill of the scout had been so clearly
established. At the nicely graduated sound of
Magua’s voice, however, he betrayed some evidence of consciousness, and once or twice he
even raised his head, as if to listen. But when
the crafty Huron spoke of his nation by name,
the eyelids of the old man raised themselves,
and he looked out upon the multitude with
that sort of dull, unmeaning expression which
might be supposed to belong to the countenance of a specter. Then he made an effort to
rise, and being upheld by his supporters, he
gained his feet, in a posture commanding by
its dignity, while he tottered with weakness.
“Who calls upon the children of the
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Lenape?” he said, in a deep, guttural voice,
that was rendered awfully audible by the
breathless silence of the multitude; “who
speaks of things gone? Does not the egg become a worm–the worm a fly, and perish? Why
tell the Delawares of good that is past? Better
thank the Manitou for that which remains.”
“It is a Wyandot,” said Magua, stepping
nigher to the rude platform on which the other
stood; “a friend of Tamenund.”
“A friend!” repeated the sage, on whose
brow a dark frown settled, imparting a portion
of that severity which had rendered his eye so
terrible in middle age. “Are the Mingoes rulers
of the earth? What brings a Huron in here?”
“Justice. His prisoners are with his brothers,
and he comes for his own.”
Tamenund turned his head toward one of his
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supporters, and listened to the short explanation the man gave.
Then, facing the applicant, he regarded him
a moment with deep attention; after which he
said, in a low and reluctant voice:
“Justice is the law of the great Manitou. My
children, give the stranger food. Then, Huron,
take thine own and depart.”
On the delivery of this solemn judgment, the
patriarch seated himself, and closed his eyes
again, as if better pleased with the images of
his own ripened experience than with the visible objects of the world. Against such a decree
there was no Delaware sufficiently hardy to
murmur, much less oppose himself. The words
were barely uttered when four or five of the
younger warriors, stepping behind Heyward
and the scout, passed thongs so dexterously
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and rapidly around their arms, as to hold them
both in instant bondage. The former was too
much engrossed with his precious and nearly
insensible burden, to be aware of their intentions before they were executed; and the latter, who considered even the hostile tribes of
the Delawares a superior race of beings, submitted without resistance. Perhaps, however,
the manner of the scout would not have been
so passive, had he fully comprehended the language in which the preceding dialogue had
been conducted.
Magua cast a look of triumph around the
whole assembly before he proceeded to the execution of his purpose. Perceiving that the men
were unable to offer any resistance, he turned
his looks on her he valued most. Cora met his
gaze with an eye so calm and firm, that his res-
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olution wavered. Then, recollecting his former
artifice, he raised Alice from the arms of the
warrior against whom she leaned, and beckoning Heyward to follow, he motioned for the
encircling crowd to open. But Cora, instead of
obeying the impulse he had expected, rushed
to the feet of the patriarch, and, raising her
voice, exclaimed aloud:
“Just and venerable Delaware, on thy wisdom and power we lean for mercy! Be deaf
to yonder artful and remorseless monster, who
poisons thy ears with falsehoods to feed his
thirst for blood. Thou that hast lived long,
and that hast seen the evil of the world, should
know how to temper its calamities to the miserable.”
The eyes of the old man opened heavily, and
he once more looked upward at the multitude.
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As the piercing tones of the suppliant swelled
on his ears, they moved slowly in the direction of her person, and finally settled there in a
steady gaze. Cora had cast herself to her knees;
and, with hands clenched in each other and
pressed upon her bosom, she remained like
a beauteous and breathing model of her sex,
looking up in his faded but majestic countenance, with a species of holy reverence. Gradually the expression of Tamenund’s features
changed, and losing their vacancy in admiration, they lighted with a portion of that intelligence which a century before had been wont to
communicate his youthful fire to the extensive
bands of the Delawares. Rising without assistance, and seemingly without an effort, he demanded, in a voice that startled its auditors by
its firmness:
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“What art thou?”
“A woman. One of a hated race, if thou wilt–
a Yengee. But one who has never harmed thee,
and who cannot harm thy people, if she would;
who asks for succor.”
“Tell me, my children,” continued the patriarch, hoarsely, motioning to those around
him, though his eyes still dwelt upon the kneeling form of Cora, “where have the Delawares
camped?”
“In the mountains of the Iroquois, beyond
the clear springs of the Horican.”
“Many parching summers are come and
gone,” continued the sage, “since I drank of the
water of my own rivers. The children of Minquon23 are the justest white men, but they were
23 William
Penn was termed Minquon by the
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thirsty and they took it to themselves. Do they
follow us so far?”
“We follow none, we covet nothing,” answered Cora. “Captives against our wills, have
we been brought amongst you; and we ask but
permission to depart to our own in peace. Art
thou not Tamenund–the father, the judge, I had
almost said, the prophet–of this people?”
“I am Tamenund of many days.”
“‘Tis now some seven years that one of thy
people was at the mercy of a white chief on the
Delawares, and, as he never used violence or injustice
in his dealings with them, his reputation for probity
passed into a proverb. The American is justly proud of
the origin of his nation, which is perhaps unequaled in
the history of the world; but the Pennsylvanian and Jerseyman have more reason to value themselves in their
ancestors than the natives of any other state, since no
wrong was done the original owners of the soil.
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borders of this province. He claimed to be of
the blood of the good and just Tamenund. ‘Go’,
said the white man, ‘for thy parent’s sake thou
art free.’ Dost thou remember the name of that
English warrior?”
“I remember, that when a laughing boy,” returned the patriarch, with the peculiar recollection of vast age, “I stood upon the sands of
the sea shore, and saw a big canoe, with wings
whiter than the swan’s, and wider than many
eagles, come from the rising sun.”
“Nay, nay; I speak not of a time so very distant, but of favor shown to thy kindred by one
of mine, within the memory of thy youngest
warrior.”
“Was it when the Yengeese and the Dutchmanne fought for the hunting-grounds of the
Delawares? Then Tamenund was a chief, and
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first laid aside the bow for the lightning of the
pale faces–”
“Not yet then,” interrupted Cora, “by many
ages; I speak of a thing of yesterday. Surely,
surely, you forget it not.”
“It was but yesterday,” rejoined the aged
man, with touching pathos, “that the children
of the Lenape were masters of the world. The
fishes of the salt lake, the birds, the beasts, and
the Mengee of the woods, owned them for Sagamores.”
Cora bowed her head in disappointment,
and, for a bitter moment struggled with her
chagrin. Then, elevating her rich features and
beaming eyes, she continued, in tones scarcely
less penetrating than the unearthly voice of the
patriarch himself:
“Tell me, is Tamenund a father?”
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The old man looked down upon her from
his elevated stand, with a benignant smile on
his wasted countenance, and then casting his
eyes slowly over the whole assemblage, he answered:
“Of a nation.”
“For myself I ask nothing. Like thee and
thine, venerable chief,” she continued, pressing her hands convulsively on her heart, and
suffering her head to droop until her burning
cheeks were nearly concealed in the maze of
dark, glossy tresses that fell in disorder upon
her shoulders, “the curse of my ancestors has
fallen heavily on their child. But yonder is one
who has never known the weight of Heaven’s
displeasure until now. She is the daughter of an
old and failing man, whose days are near their
close. She has many, very many, to love her,
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and delight in her; and she is too good, much
too precious, to become the victim of that villain.”
“I know that the pale faces are a proud and
hungry race. I know that they claim not only
to have the earth, but that the meanest of their
color is better than the Sachems of the red man.
The dogs and crows of their tribes,” continued the earnest old chieftain, without heeding
the wounded spirit of his listener, whose head
was nearly crushed to the earth in shame, as he
proceeded, “would bark and caw before they
would take a woman to their wigwams whose
blood was not of the color of snow. But let
them not boast before the face of the Manitou
too loud. They entered the land at the rising,
and may yet go off at the setting sun. I have
often seen the locusts strip the leaves from the
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trees, but the season of blossoms has always
come again.”
“It is so,” said Cora, drawing a long breath,
as if reviving from a trance, raising her face,
and shaking back her shining veil, with a kindling eye, that contradicted the death-like paleness of her countenance; “but why–it is not permitted us to inquire. There is yet one of thine
own people who has not been brought before
thee; before thou lettest the Huron depart in triumph, hear him speak.”
Observing Tamenund to look about him
doubtingly, one of his companions said:
“It is a snake–a red-skin in the pay of the
Yengeese. We keep him for the torture.”
“Let him come,” returned the sage.
Then Tamenund once more sank into his
seat, and a silence so deep prevailed while
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the young man prepared to obey his simple
mandate, that the leaves, which fluttered in
the draught of the light morning air, were distinctly heard rustling in the surrounding forest.
982
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“If you deny me, fie upon your
law!
There is no force in the decrees of
Venice:
I stand for judgment: answer, shall
I have it?”
–Merchant of Venice
983
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THE SILENCE CONTINUED unbroken by
human sounds for many anxious minutes.
Then the waving multitude opened and shut
again, and Uncas stood in the living circle. All
those eyes, which had been curiously studying the lineaments of the sage, as the source
of their own intelligence, turned on the instant, and were now bent in secret admiration
on the erect, agile, and faultless person of the
captive. But neither the presence in which he
found himself, nor the exclusive attention that
he attracted, in any manner disturbed the selfpossession of the young Mohican. He cast a
deliberate and observing look on every side of
him, meeting the settled expression of hostility
that lowered in the visages of the chiefs with
the same calmness as the curious gaze of the attentive children. But when, last in this haughty
scrutiny, the person of Tamenund came under
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his glance, his eye became fixed, as though all
other objects were already forgotten. Then, advancing with a slow and noiseless step up the
area, he placed himself immediately before the
footstool of the sage. Here he stood unnoted,
though keenly observant himself, until one of
the chiefs apprised the latter of his presence.
“With what tongue does the prisoner speak
to the Manitou?” demanded the patriarch,
without unclosing his eyes.
“Like his fathers,” Uncas replied; “with the
tongue of a Delaware.”
At this sudden and unexpected annunciation, a low, fierce yell ran through the multitude, that might not inaptly be compared
to the growl of the lion, as his choler is first
awakened–a fearful omen of the weight of his
future anger. The effect was equally strong
985
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on the sage, though differently exhibited. He
passed a hand before his eyes, as if to exclude
the least evidence of so shameful a spectacle,
while he repeated, in his low, guttural tones,
the words he had just heard.
“A Delaware! I have lived to see the tribes
of the Lenape driven from their council-fires,
and scattered, like broken herds of deer, among
the hills of the Iroquois! I have seen the hatchets of a strong people sweep woods from the
valleys, that the winds of heaven have spared!
The beasts that run on the mountains, and the
birds that fly above the trees, have I seen living in the wigwams of men; but never before
have I found a Delaware so base as to creep,
like a poisonous serpent, into the camps of his
nation.”
“The singing-birds have opened their bills,”
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returned Uncas, in the softest notes of his own
musical voice; “and Tamenund has heard their
song.”
The sage started, and bent his head aside, as
if to catch the fleeting sounds of some passing
melody.
“Does Tamenund dream!” he exclaimed.
“What voice is at his ear! Have the winters
gone backward! Will summer come again to
the children of the Lenape!”
A solemn and respectful silence succeeded
this incoherent burst from the lips of the
Delaware prophet. His people readily constructed his unintelligible language into one of
those mysterious conferences he was believed
to hold so frequently with a superior intelligence and they awaited the issue of the revelation in awe. After a patient pause, how-
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ever, one of the aged men, perceiving that the
sage had lost the recollection of the subject before them, ventured to remind him again of the
presence of the prisoner.
“The false Delaware trembles lest he should
hear the words of Tamenund,” he said. “‘Tis
a hound that howls, when the Yengeese show
him a trail.”
“And ye,” returned Uncas, looking sternly
around him, “are dogs that whine, when the
Frenchman casts ye the offals of his deer!”
Twenty knives gleamed in the air, and as
many warriors sprang to their feet, at this biting, and perhaps merited retort; but a motion from one of the chiefs suppressed the outbreaking of their tempers, and restored the
appearance of quiet. The task might probably have been more difficult, had not a move-
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ment made by Tamenund indicated that he was
again about to speak.
“Delaware!” resumed the sage, “little art
thou worthy of thy name. My people have not
seen a bright sun in many winters; and the warrior who deserts his tribe when hid in clouds is
doubly a traitor. The law of the Manitou is just.
It is so; while the rivers run and the mountains
stand, while the blossoms come and go on the
trees, it must be so. He is thine, my children;
deal justly by him.”
Not a limb was moved, nor was a breath
drawn louder and longer than common, until the closing syllable of this final decree had
passed the lips of Tamenund. Then a cry of
vengeance burst at once, as it might be, from
the united lips of the nation; a frightful augury of their ruthless intentions. In the midst
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of these prolonged and savage yells, a chief
proclaimed, in a high voice, that the captive
was condemned to endure the dreadful trial
of torture by fire. The circle broke its order,
and screams of delight mingled with the bustle and tumult of preparation. Heyward struggled madly with his captors; the anxious eye
of Hawkeye began to look around him, with
an expression of peculiar earnestness; and Cora
again threw herself at the feet of the patriarch,
once more a suppliant for mercy.
Throughout the whole of these trying moments, Uncas had alone preserved his serenity.
He looked on the preparations with a steady
eye, and when the tormentors came to seize
him, he met them with a firm and upright
attitude. One among them, if possible more
fierce and savage than his fellows, seized the
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hunting-shirt of the young warrior, and at a
single effort tore it from his body. Then, with
a yell of frantic pleasure, he leaped toward his
unresisting victim and prepared to lead him to
the stake. But, at that moment, when he appeared most a stranger to the feelings of humanity, the purpose of the savage was arrested
as suddenly as if a supernatural agency had interposed in the behalf of Uncas. The eyeballs of
the Delaware seemed to start from their sockets; his mouth opened and his whole form became frozen in an attitude of amazement. Raising his hand with a slow and regulated motion,
he pointed with a finger to the bosom of the
captive. His companions crowded about him
in wonder and every eye was like his own, fastened intently on the figure of a small tortoise,
beautifully tattooed on the breast of the prisoner, in a bright blue tint.
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For a single instant Uncas enjoyed his triumph, smiling calmly on the scene. Then
motioning the crowd away with a high and
haughty sweep of his arm, he advanced in front
of the nation with the air of a king, and spoke in
a voice louder than the murmur of admiration
that ran through the multitude.
“Men of the Lenni Lenape!” he said, “my
race upholds the earth! Your feeble tribe stands
on my shell! What fire that a Delaware can light
would burn the child of my fathers,” he added,
pointing proudly to the simple blazonry on his
skin; “the blood that came from such a stock
would smother your flames! My race is the
grandfather of nations!”
“Who art thou?” demanded Tamenund, rising at the startling tones he heard, more than at
any meaning conveyed by the language of the
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prisoner.
“Uncas, the son of Chingachgook,” answered the captive modestly, turning from the
nation, and bending his head in reverence to
the other’s character and years; “a son of the
great Unamis.”24
“The hour of Tamenund is nigh!” exclaimed
the sage; “the day is come, at last, to the night!
I thank the Manitou, that one is here to fill my
place at the council-fire. Uncas, the child of Uncas, is found! Let the eyes of a dying eagle gaze
on the rising sun.”
The youth stepped lightly, but proudly on
the platform, where he became visible to
the whole agitated and wondering multitude.
Tamenund held him long at the length of his
24 Turtle.
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arm and read every turn in the fine lineaments
of his countenance, with the untiring gaze of
one who recalled days of happiness.
“Is Tamenund a boy?” at length the bewildered prophet exclaimed. “Have I dreamed of
so many snows–that my people were scattered
like floating sands–of Yengeese, more plenty
than the leaves on the trees! The arrow of
Tamenund would not frighten the fawn; his
arm is withered like the branch of a dead oak;
the snail would be swifter in the race; yet is Uncas before him as they went to battle against the
pale faces! Uncas, the panther of his tribe, the
eldest son of the Lenape, the wisest Sagamore
of the Mohicans! Tell me, ye Delawares, has
Tamenund been a sleeper for a hundred winters?”
The calm and deep silence which succeeded
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these words sufficiently announced the awful
reverence with which his people received the
communication of the patriarch. None dared
to answer, though all listened in breathless expectation of what might follow. Uncas, however, looking in his face with the fondness and
veneration of a favored child, presumed on his
own high and acknowledged rank, to reply.
“Four warriors of his race have lived and
died,” he said, “since the friend of Tamenund
led his people in battle. The blood of the turtle has been in many chiefs, but all have gone
back into the earth from whence they came, except Chingachgook and his son.”
“It is true–it is true,” returned the sage, a
flash of recollection destroying all his pleasing fancies, and restoring him at once to a
consciousness of the true history of his na-
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tion. “Our wise men have often said that two
warriors of the unchanged race were in the
hills of the Yengeese; why have their seats at
the council-fires of the Delawares been so long
empty?”
At these words the young man raised his
head, which he had still kept bowed a little, in
reverence; and lifting his voice so as to be heard
by the multitude, as if to explain at once and
forever the policy of his family, he said aloud:
“Once we slept where we could hear the salt
lake speak in its anger. Then we were rulers
and Sagamores over the land. But when a pale
face was seen on every brook, we followed
the deer back to the river of our nation. The
Delawares were gone. Few warriors of them all
stayed to drink of the stream they loved. Then
said my fathers, ‘Here will we hunt. The wa-
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ters of the river go into the salt lake. If we go
toward the setting sun, we shall find streams
that run into the great lakes of sweet water;
there would a Mohican die, like fishes of the
sea, in the clear springs. When the Manitou
is ready and shall say “Come,” we will follow
the river to the sea, and take our own again.’
Such, Delawares, is the belief of the children of
the Turtle. Our eyes are on the rising and not
toward the setting sun. We know whence he
comes, but we know not whither he goes. It is
enough.”
The men of the Lenape listened to his words
with all the respect that superstition could
lend, finding a secret charm even in the figurative language with which the young Sagamore
imparted his ideas. Uncas himself watched the
effect of his brief explanation with intelligent
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eyes, and gradually dropped the air of authority he had assumed, as he perceived that his auditors were content. Then, permitting his looks
to wander over the silent throng that crowded
around the elevated seat of Tamenund, he first
perceived Hawkeye in his bonds. Stepping eagerly from his stand, he made way for himself
to the side of his friend; and cutting his thongs
with a quick and angry stroke of his own knife,
he motioned to the crowd to divide. The Indians silently obeyed, and once more they stood
ranged in their circle, as before his appearance
among them. Uncas took the scout by the hand,
and led him to the feet of the patriarch.
“Father,” he said, “look at this pale face; a
just man, and the friend of the Delawares.”
“Is he a son of Minquon?”
“Not so; a warrior known to the Yengeese,
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and feared by the Maquas.”
“What name has he gained by his deeds?”
“We call him Hawkeye,” Uncas replied, using the Delaware phrase; “for his sight never
fails. The Mingoes know him better by the
death he gives their warriors; with them he is
‘The Long Rifle’.”
“La Longue Carabine!” exclaimed Tamenund, opening his eyes, and regarding the
scout sternly. “My son has not done well to call
him friend.”
“I call him so who proves himself such,” returned the young chief, with great calmness,
but with a steady mien. “If Uncas is welcome
among the Delawares, then is Hawkeye with
his friends.”
“The pale face has slain my young men; his
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name is great for the blows he has struck the
Lenape.”
“If a Mingo has whispered that much in the
ear of the Delaware, he has only shown that
he is a singing-bird,” said the scout, who now
believed that it was time to vindicate himself
from such offensive charges, and who spoke
as the man he addressed, modifying his Indian figures, however, with his own peculiar
notions. “That I have slain the Maquas I am
not the man to deny, even at their own councilfires; but that, knowingly, my hand has never
harmed a Delaware, is opposed to the reason
of my gifts, which is friendly to them, and all
that belongs to their nation.”
A low exclamation of applause passed
among the warriors who exchanged looks with
each other like men that first began to perceive
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their error.
“Where is the Huron?” demanded Tamenund. “Has he stopped my ears?”
Magua, whose feelings during that scene in
which Uncas had triumphed may be much better imagined than described, answered to the
call by stepping boldly in front of the patriarch.
“The just Tamenund,” he said, “will not keep
what a Huron has lent.”
“Tell me, son of my brother,” returned the
sage, avoiding the dark countenance of Le Subtil, and turning gladly to the more ingenuous features of Uncas, “has the stranger a conqueror’s right over you?”
“He has none. The panther may get into
snares set by the women; but he is strong, and
knows how to leap through them.”
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“La Longue Carabine?”
“Laughs at the Mingoes. Go, Huron, ask
your squaws the color of a bear.”
“The stranger and white maiden that come
into my camp together?”
“Should journey on an open path.”
“And the woman that Huron left with my
warriors?”
Uncas made no reply.
“And the woman that the Mingo has
brought into my camp?” repeated Tamenund,
gravely.
“She is mine,” cried Magua, shaking his
hand in triumph at Uncas. “Mohican, you
know that she is mine.”
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“My son is silent,” said Tamenund, endeavoring to read the expression of the face that the
youth turned from him in sorrow.
“It is so,” was the low answer.
A short and impressive pause succeeded,
during which it was very apparent with what
reluctance the multitude admitted the justice
of the Mingo’s claim. At length the sage, on
whom alone the decision depended, said, in a
firm voice:
“Huron, depart.”
“As he came, just Tamenund,” demanded
the wily Magua, “or with hands filled with the
faith of the Delawares? The wigwam of Le Renard Subtil is empty. Make him strong with his
own.”
The aged man mused with himself for a
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time; and then, bending his head toward one
of his venerable companions, he asked:
“Are my ears open?”
“It is true.”
“Is this Mingo a chief?”
“The first in his nation.”
“Girl, what wouldst thou? A great warrior
takes thee to wife. Go! thy race will not end.”
“Better, a thousand times, it should,” exclaimed the horror-struck Cora, “than meet
with such a degradation!”
“Huron, her mind is in the tents of her fathers. An unwilling maiden makes an unhappy wigwam.”
“She speaks with the tongue of her people,”
returned Magua, regarding his victim with a
look of bitter irony.
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“She is of a race of traders, and will bargain for a bright look. Let Tamenund speak the
words.”
“Take you the wampum, and our love.”
“Nothing hence but what Magua brought
hither.”
“Then depart with thine own. The Great
Manitou forbids that a Delaware should be unjust.”
Magua advanced, and seized his captive
strongly by the arm; the Delawares fell back, in
silence; and Cora, as if conscious that remonstrance would be useless, prepared to submit
to her fate without resistance.
“Hold, hold!” cried Duncan, springing forward; “Huron, have mercy! her ransom shall
make thee richer than any of thy people were
ever yet known to be.”
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“Magua is a red-skin; he wants not the beads
of the pale faces.”
“Gold, silver, powder, lead–all that a warrior
needs shall be in thy wigwam; all that becomes
the greatest chief.”
“Le Subtil is very strong,” cried Magua, violently shaking the hand which grasped the unresisting arm of Cora; “he has his revenge!”
“Mighty ruler of Providence!” exclaimed
Heyward, clasping his hands together in
agony, “can this be suffered! To you, just Tamenund, I appeal for mercy.”
“The words of the Delaware are said,” returned the sage, closing his eyes, and dropping
back into his seat, alike wearied with his mental and his bodily exertion. “Men speak not
twice.”
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“That a chief should not misspend his time
in unsaying what has once been spoken is wise
and reasonable,” said Hawkeye, motioning to
Duncan to be silent; “but it is also prudent in
every warrior to consider well before he strikes
his tomahawk into the head of his prisoner.
Huron, I love you not; nor can I say that any
Mingo has ever received much favor at my
hands. It is fair to conclude that, if this war
does not soon end, many more of your warriors
will meet me in the woods. Put it to your judgment, then, whether you would prefer taking
such a prisoner as that into your encampment,
or one like myself, who am a man that it would
greatly rejoice your nation to see with naked
hands.”
“Will ‘The Long Rifle’ give his life for the
woman?” demanded Magua, hesitatingly; for
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he had already made a motion toward quitting
the place with his victim.
“No, no; I have not said so much as that,”
returned Hawkeye, drawing back with suitable discretion, when he noted the eagerness
with which Magua listened to his proposal. “It
would be an unequal exchange, to give a warrior, in the prime of his age and usefulness, for
the best woman on the frontiers. I might consent to go into winter quarters, now –at least
six weeks afore the leaves will turn–on condition you will release the maiden.”
Magua shook his head, and made an impatient sign for the crowd to open.
“Well, then,” added the scout, with the musing air of a man who had not half made up his
mind; “I will throw ‘killdeer’ into the bargain.
Take the word of an experienced hunter, the
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piece has not its equal atween the provinces.”
Magua still disdained to reply, continuing
his efforts to disperse the crowd.
“Perhaps,” added the scout, losing his dissembled coolness exactly in proportion as the
other manifested an indifference to the exchange, “if I should condition to teach your
young men the real virtue of the we’pon, it
would smoothe the little differences in our
judgments.”
Le Renard fiercely ordered the Delawares,
who still lingered in an impenetrable belt
around him, in hopes he would listen to the
amicable proposal, to open his path, threatening, by the glance of his eye, another appeal to
the infallible justice of their “prophet.”
“What is ordered must sooner or later arrive,” continued Hawkeye, turning with a sad
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and humbled look to Uncas. “The varlet knows
his advantage and will keep it! God bless you,
boy; you have found friends among your natural kin, and I hope they will prove as true as
some you have met who had no Indian cross.
As for me, sooner or later, I must die; it is,
therefore, fortunate there are but few to make
my death-howl. After all, it is likely the imps
would have managed to master my scalp, so
a day or two will make no great difference in
the everlasting reckoning of time. God bless
you,” added the rugged woodsman, bending
his head aside, and then instantly changing its
direction again, with a wistful look toward the
youth; “I loved both you and your father, Uncas, though our skins are not altogether of a
color, and our gifts are somewhat different. Tell
the Sagamore I never lost sight of him in my
greatest trouble; and, as for you, think of me
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sometimes when on a lucky trail, and depend
on it, boy, whether there be one heaven or two,
there is a path in the other world by which honest men may come together again. You’ll find
the rifle in the place we hid it; take it, and keep
it for my sake; and, harkee, lad, as your natural gifts don’t deny you the use of vengeance,
use it a little freely on the Mingoes; it may unburden griefs at my loss, and ease your mind.
Huron, I accept your offer; release the woman.
I am your prisoner!”
A suppressed, but still distinct murmur of
approbation ran through the crowd at this generous proposition; even the fiercest among the
Delaware warriors manifesting pleasure at the
manliness of the intended sacrifice. Magua
paused, and for an anxious moment, it might
be said, he doubted; then, casting his eyes on
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Cora, with an expression in which ferocity and
admiration were strangely mingled, his purpose became fixed forever.
He intimated his contempt of the offer with
a backward motion of his head, and said, in a
steady and settled voice:
“Le Renard Subtil is a great chief; he has but
one mind. Come,” he added, laying his hand
too familiarly on the shoulder of his captive to
urge her onward; “a Huron is no tattler; we will
go.”
The maiden drew back in lofty womanly reserve, and her dark eye kindled, while the rich
blood shot, like the passing brightness of the
sun, into her very temples, at the indignity.
“I am your prisoner, and, at a fitting time
shall be ready to follow, even to my death.
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But violence is unnecessary,” she coldly said;
and immediately turning to Hawkeye, added:
“Generous hunter! from my soul I thank you.
Your offer is vain, neither could it be accepted;
but still you may serve me, even more than in
your own noble intention. Look at that drooping humbled child! Abandon her not until you
leave her in the habitations of civilized men. I
will not say,” wringing the hard hand of the
scout, “that her father will reward you–for such
as you are above the rewards of men–but he
will thank you and bless you. And, believe
me, the blessing of a just and aged man has
virtue in the sight of Heaven. Would to God
I could hear one word from his lips at this awful moment!” Her voice became choked, and,
for an instant, she was silent; then, advancing
a step nigher to Duncan, who was supporting
her unconscious sister, she continued, in more
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subdued tones, but in which feeling and the
habits of her sex maintained a fearful struggle: “I need not tell you to cherish the treasure
you will possess. You love her, Heyward; that
would conceal a thousand faults, though she
had them. She is kind, gentle, sweet, good,
as mortal may be. There is not a blemish in
mind or person at which the proudest of you
all would sicken. She is fair–oh! how surpassingly fair!” laying her own beautiful, but
less brilliant, hand in melancholy affection on
the alabaster forehead of Alice, and parting the
golden hair which clustered about her brows;
“and yet her soul is pure and spotless as her
skin! I could say much–more, perhaps, than
cooler reason would approve; but I will spare
you and myself–” Her voice became inaudible,
and her face was bent over the form of her sister. After a long and burning kiss, she arose,
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and with features of the hue of death, but without even a tear in her feverish eye, she turned
away, and added, to the savage, with all her
former elevation of manner: “Now, sir, if it be
your pleasure, I will follow.”
“Ay, go,” cried Duncan, placing Alice in the
arms of an Indian girl; “go, Magua, go. These
Delawares have their laws, which forbid them
to detain you; but I–I have no such obligation.
Go, malignant monster–why do you delay?”
It would be difficult to describe the expression with which Magua listened to this threat
to follow. There was at first a fierce and manifest display of joy, and then it was instantly
subdued in a look of cunning coldness.
“The words are open,” he was content with
answering, “‘The Open Hand’ can come.”
“Hold,” cried Hawkeye, seizing Duncan by
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the arm, and detaining him by violence; “you
know not the craft of the imp. He would lead
you to an ambushment, and your death–”
“Huron,” interrupted Uncas, who submissive to the stern customs of his people, had
been an attentive and grave listener to all that
passed; “Huron, the justice of the Delawares
comes from the Manitou. Look at the sun.
He is now in the upper branches of the hemlock. Your path is short and open. When he is
seen above the trees, there will be men on your
trail.”
“I hear a crow!” exclaimed Magua, with a
taunting laugh. “Go!” he added, shaking his
hand at the crowd, which had slowly opened
to admit his passage. “Where are the petticoats
of the Delawares! Let them send their arrows
and their guns to the Wyandots; they shall have
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venison to eat, and corn to hoe. Dogs, rabbits,
thieves–I spit on you!”
His parting gibes were listened to in a dead,
boding silence, and, with these biting words in
his mouth, the triumphant Magua passed unmolested into the forest, followed by his passive captive, and protected by the inviolable
laws of Indian hospitality.
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“Flue.–Kill the poys and the luggage!
‘Tis expressly against the law of
arms;
‘tis as arrant a piece of knavery,
mark you now, as can be offered
in the ‘orld.”
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–King Henry V.
SO LONG AS their enemy and his victim continued in sight, the multitude remained motionless as beings charmed to the place by some
power that was friendly to the Huron; but,
the instant he disappeared, it became tossed
and agitated by fierce and powerful passion.
Uncas maintained his elevated stand, keeping
his eyes on the form of Cora, until the colors
of her dress were blended with the foliage of
the forest; when he descended, and, moving
silently through the throng, he disappeared in
that lodge from which he had so recently issued. A few of the graver and more attentive
warriors, who caught the gleams of anger that
shot from the eyes of the young chief in passing, followed him to the place he had selected
for his meditations. After which, Tamenund
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and Alice were removed, and the women and
children were ordered to disperse. During the
momentous hour that succeeded, the encampment resembled a hive of troubled bees, who
only awaited the appearance and example of
their leader to take some distant and momentous flight.
A young warrior at length issued from the
lodge of Uncas; and, moving deliberately, with
a sort of grave march, toward a dwarf pine that
grew in the crevices of the rocky terrace, he tore
the bark from its body, and then turned whence
he came without speaking. He was soon followed by another, who stripped the sapling of
its branches, leaving it a naked and blazed25
25 A tree which has been partially or entirely stripped
of its bark is said, in the language of the country, to be
“blazed.” The term is strictly English, for a horse is said
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trunk. A third colored the post with stripes
of a dark red paint; all which indications of a
hostile design in the leaders of the nation were
received by the men without in a gloomy and
ominous silence. Finally, the Mohican himself
reappeared, divested of all his attire, except his
girdle and leggings, and with one-half of his
fine features hid under a cloud of threatening
black.
Uncas moved with a slow and dignified
tread toward the post, which he immediately
commenced encircling with a measured step,
not unlike an ancient dance, raising his voice,
at the same time, in the wild and irregular
chant of his war song. The notes were in the
extremes of human sounds; being sometimes
melancholy and exquisitely plaintive, even rito be blazed when it has a white mark.
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valing the melody of birds–and then, by sudden and startling transitions, causing the auditors to tremble by their depth and energy.
The words were few and often repeated, proceeding gradually from a sort of invocation,
or hymn, to the Deity, to an intimation of the
warrior’s object, and terminating as they commenced with an acknowledgment of his own
dependence on the Great Spirit. If it were
possible to translate the comprehensive and
melodious language in which he spoke, the
ode might read something like the following:
“Manitou! Manitou! Manitou! Thou art great,
thou art good, thou art wise: Manitou! Manitou! Thou art just. In the heavens, in the
clouds, oh, I see many spots–many dark, many
red: In the heavens, oh, I see many clouds.”
“In the woods, in the air, oh, I hear the
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whoop, the long yell, and the cry: In the woods,
oh, I hear the loud whoop!”
“Manitou! Manitou! Manitou! I am weak–
thou art strong; I am slow; Manitou! Manitou!
Give me aid.”
At the end of what might be called each
verse he made a pause, by raising a note louder
and longer than common, that was peculiarly
suited to the sentiment just expressed. The
first close was solemn, and intended to convey the idea of veneration; the second descriptive, bordering on the alarming; and the third
was the well-known and terrific war-whoop,
which burst from the lips of the young warrior,
like a combination of all the frightful sounds
of battle. The last was like the first, humble
and imploring. Three times did he repeat this
song, and as often did he encircle the post in
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his dance.
At the close of the first turn, a grave and
highly esteemed chief of the Lenape followed
his example, singing words of his own, however, to music of a similar character. Warrior after warrior enlisted in the dance, until all of any
renown and authority were numbered in its
mazes. The spectacle now became wildly terrific; the fierce-looking and menacing visages
of the chiefs receiving additional power from
the appalling strains in which they mingled
their guttural tones. Just then Uncas struck his
tomahawk deep into the post, and raised his
voice in a shout, which might be termed his
own battle cry. The act announced that he had
assumed the chief authority in the intended expedition.
It was a signal that awakened all the slum-
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bering passions of the nation. A hundred
youths, who had hitherto been restrained by
the diffidence of their years, rushed in a frantic body on the fancied emblem of their enemy,
and severed it asunder, splinter by splinter, until nothing remained of the trunk but its roots
in the earth. During this moment of tumult,
the most ruthless deeds of war were performed
on the fragments of the tree, with as much apparent ferocity as if they were the living victims of their cruelty. Some were scalped; some
received the keen and trembling axe; and others suffered by thrusts from the fatal knife. In
short, the manifestations of zeal and fierce delight were so great and unequivocal, that the
expedition was declared to be a war of the nation.
The instant Uncas had struck the blow, he
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moved out of the circle, and cast his eyes up
to the sun, which was just gaining the point,
when the truce with Magua was to end. The
fact was soon announced by a significant gesture, accompanied by a corresponding cry; and
the whole of the excited multitude abandoned
their mimic warfare, with shrill yells of pleasure, to prepare for the more hazardous experiment of the reality.
The whole face of the encampment was instantly changed. The warriors, who were already armed and painted, became as still as if
they were incapable of any uncommon burst
of emotion. On the other hand, the women
broke out of the lodges, with the songs of joy
and those of lamentation so strangely mixed
that it might have been difficult to have said
which passion preponderated. None, however,
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was idle. Some bore their choicest articles, others their young, and some their aged and infirm, into the forest, which spread itself like a
verdant carpet of bright green against the side
of the mountain. Thither Tamenund also retired, with calm composure, after a short and
touching interview with Uncas; from whom
the sage separated with the reluctance that a
parent would quit a long lost and just recovered child. In the meantime, Duncan saw Alice
to a place of safety, and then sought the scout,
with a countenance that denoted how eagerly
he also panted for the approaching contest.
But Hawkeye was too much accustomed to
the war song and the enlistments of the natives,
to betray any interest in the passing scene. He
merely cast an occasional look at the number
and quality of the warriors, who, from time
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to time, signified their readiness to accompany
Uncas to the field. In this particular he was
soon satisfied; for, as has been already seen,
the power of the young chief quickly embraced
every fighting man in the nation. After this
material point was so satisfactorily decided, he
despatched an Indian boy in quest of “killdeer”
and the rifle of Uncas, to the place where they
had deposited their weapons on approaching
the camp of the Delawares; a measure of double policy, inasmuch as it protected the arms
from their own fate, if detained as prisoners,
and gave them the advantage of appearing
among the strangers rather as sufferers than
as men provided with means of defense and
subsistence. In selecting another to perform
the office of reclaiming his highly prized rifle,
the scout had lost sight of none of his habitual
caution. He knew that Magua had not come
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unattended, and he also knew that Huron spies
watched the movements of their new enemies,
along the whole boundary of the woods. It
would, therefore, have been fatal to himself
to have attempted the experiment; a warrior
would have fared no better; but the danger of a
boy would not be likely to commence until after his object was discovered. When Heyward
joined him, the scout was coolly awaiting the
result of this experiment.
The boy, who had been well instructed, and
was sufficiently crafty, proceeded, with a bosom that was swelling with the pride of such
a confidence, and all the hopes of young ambition, carelessly across the clearing to the wood,
which he entered at a point at some little distance from the place where the guns were secreted. The instant, however, he was concealed
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by the foliage of the bushes, his dusky form
was to be seen gliding, like that of a serpent,
toward the desired treasure. He was successful; and in another moment he appeared flying across the narrow opening that skirted the
base of the terrace on which the village stood,
with the velocity of an arrow, and bearing a
prize in each hand. He had actually gained the
crags, and was leaping up their sides with incredible activity, when a shot from the woods
showed how accurate had been the judgment
of the scout. The boy answered it with a feeble but contemptuous shout; and immediately
a second bullet was sent after him from another
part of the cover. At the next instant he appeared on the level above, elevating his guns in
triumph, while he moved with the air of a conqueror toward the renowned hunter who had
honored him by so glorious a commission.
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Notwithstanding the lively interest Hawkeye had taken in the fate of his messenger, he
received “killdeer” with a satisfaction that, momentarily, drove all other recollections from his
mind. After examining the piece with an intelligent eye, and opening and shutting the pan
some ten or fifteen times, and trying sundry
other equally important experiments on the
lock, he turned to the boy and demanded with
great manifestations of kindness, if he was
hurt. The urchin looked proudly up in his face,
but made no reply.
“Ah! I see, lad, the knaves have barked your
arm!” added the scout, taking up the limb of
the patient sufferer, across which a deep flesh
wound had been made by one of the bullets;
“but a little bruised alder will act like a charm.
In the meantime I will wrap it in a badge of
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wampum! You have commenced the business
of a warrior early, my brave boy, and are likely
to bear a plenty of honorable scars to your
grave. I know many young men that have
taken scalps who cannot show such a mark as
this. Go!” having bound up the arm; “you will
be a chief!”
The lad departed, prouder of his flowing
blood than the vainest courtier could be of his
blushing ribbon; and stalked among the fellows of his age, an object of general admiration
and envy.
But, in a moment of so many serious and important duties, this single act of juvenile fortitude did not attract the general notice and
commendation it would have received under
milder auspices. It had, however, served to apprise the Delawares of the position and the in-
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tentions of their enemies. Accordingly a party
of adventurers, better suited to the task than
the weak though spirited boy, was ordered to
dislodge the skulkers. The duty was soon performed; for most of the Hurons retired of themselves when they found they had been discovered. The Delawares followed to a sufficient
distance from their own encampment, and then
halted for orders, apprehensive of being led
into an ambush. As both parties secreted themselves, the woods were again as still and quiet
as a mild summer morning and deep solitude
could render them.
The calm but still impatient Uncas now collected his chiefs, and divided his power. He
presented Hawkeye as a warrior, often tried,
and always found deserving of confidence.
When he found his friend met with a favor-
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able reception, he bestowed on him the command of twenty men, like himself, active, skillful and resolute. He gave the Delawares to
understand the rank of Heyward among the
troops of the Yengeese, and then tendered to
him a trust of equal authority. But Duncan declined the charge, professing his readiness to
serve as a volunteer by the side of the scout.
After this disposition, the young Mohican appointed various native chiefs to fill the different
situations of responsibility, and, the time pressing, he gave forth the word to march. He was
cheerfully, but silently obeyed by more than
two hundred men.
Their entrance into the forest was perfectly
unmolested; nor did they encounter any living objects that could either give the alarm, or
furnish the intelligence they needed, until they
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came upon the lairs of their own scouts. Here
a halt was ordered, and the chiefs were assembled to hold a “whispering council.”
At this meeting divers plans of operation
were suggested, though none of a character to
meet the wishes of their ardent leader. Had Uncas followed the promptings of his own inclinations, he would have led his followers to the
charge without a moment’s delay, and put the
conflict to the hazard of an instant issue; but
such a course would have been in opposition
to all the received practises and opinions of his
countrymen. He was, therefore, fain to adopt a
caution that in the present temper of his mind
he execrated, and to listen to advice at which
his fiery spirit chafed, under the vivid recollection of Cora’s danger and Magua’s insolence.
After an unsatisfactory conference of many
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minutes, a solitary individual was seen advancing from the side of the enemy, with such
apparent haste, as to induce the belief he might
be a messenger charged with pacific overtures.
When within a hundred yards, however, of
the cover behind which the Delaware council had assembled, the stranger hesitated, appeared uncertain what course to take, and finally halted. All eyes were turned now on Uncas, as if seeking directions how to proceed.
“Hawkeye,” said the young chief, in a low
voice, “he must never speak to the Hurons
again.”
“His time has come,” said the laconic scout,
thrusting the long barrel of his rifle through
the leaves, and taking his deliberate and fatal aim. But, instead of pulling the trigger, he
lowered the muzzle again, and indulged him-
1036
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self in a fit of his peculiar mirth. “I took the
imp for a Mingo, as I’m a miserable sinner!”
he said; “but when my eye ranged along his
ribs for a place to get the bullet in–would you
think it, Uncas–I saw the musicianer’s blower;
and so, after all, it is the man they call Gamut,
whose death can profit no one, and whose life,
if this tongue can do anything but sing, may be
made serviceable to our own ends. If sounds
have not lost their virtue, I’ll soon have a discourse with the honest fellow, and that in a
voice he’ll find more agreeable than the speech
of ‘killdeer’.”
So saying, Hawkeye laid aside his rifle; and,
crawling through the bushes until within hearing of David, he attempted to repeat the musical effort, which had conducted himself, with
so much safety and eclat, through the Huron
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encampment. The exquisite organs of Gamut
could not readily be deceived (and, to say the
truth, it would have been difficult for any other
than Hawkeye to produce a similar noise), and,
consequently, having once before heard the
sounds, he now knew whence they proceeded.
The poor fellow appeared relieved from a state
of great embarrassment; for, pursuing the direction of the voice–a task that to him was not
much less arduous that it would have been to
have gone up in the face of a battery–he soon
discovered the hidden songster.
“I wonder what the Hurons will think of
that!” said the scout, laughing, as he took his
companion by the arm, and urged him toward
the rear. “If the knaves lie within earshot, they
will say there are two non-compossers instead
of one! But here we are safe,” he added, point-
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ing to Uncas and his associates. “Now give
us the history of the Mingo inventions in natural English, and without any ups and downs
of voice.”
David gazed about him, at the fierce and
wild-looking chiefs, in mute wonder; but assured by the presence of faces that he knew, he
soon rallied his faculties so far as to make an
intelligent reply.
“The heathen are abroad in goodly numbers,” said David; “and, I fear, with evil intent. There has been much howling and ungodly revelry, together with such sounds as it
is profanity to utter, in their habitations within
the past hour, so much so, in truth, that I have
fled to the Delawares in search of peace.”
“Your ears might not have profited much by
the exchange, had you been quicker of foot,”
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returned the scout a little dryly. “But let that be
as it may; where are the Hurons?”
“They lie hid in the forest, between this spot
and their village in such force, that prudence
would teach you instantly to return.”
Uncas cast a glance along the range of trees
which concealed his own band and mentioned
the name of:
“Magua?”
“Is among them. He brought in the maiden
that had sojourned with the Delawares; and,
leaving her in the cave, has put himself, like a
raging wolf, at the head of his savages. I know
not what has troubled his spirit so greatly!”
“He has left her, you say, in the cave!” interrupted Heyward; “‘tis well that we know its
situation! May not something be done for her
instant relief?”
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Uncas looked earnestly at the scout, before
he asked:
“What says Hawkeye?”
“Give me twenty rifles, and I will turn to
the right, along the stream; and, passing by
the huts of the beaver, will join the Sagamore
and the colonel. You shall then hear the whoop
from that quarter; with this wind one may easily send it a mile. Then, Uncas, do you drive
in the front; when they come within range of
our pieces, we will give them a blow that, I
pledge the good name of an old frontiersman,
shall make their line bend like an ashen bow.
After which, we will carry the village, and take
the woman from the cave; when the affair may
be finished with the tribe, according to a white
man’s battle, by a blow and a victory; or, in the
Indian fashion, with dodge and cover. There
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may be no great learning, major, in this plan,
but with courage and patience it can all be
done.”
“I like it very much,” cried Duncan, who saw
that the release of Cora was the primary object
in the mind of the scout; “I like it much. Let it
be instantly attempted.”
After a short conference, the plan was matured, and rendered more intelligible to the
several parties; the different signals were appointed, and the chiefs separated, each to his
allotted station.
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“But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,
Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa send the blackeyed maid.”
–Pope.
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DURING THE TIME Uncas was making this
disposition of his forces, the woods were as
still, and, with the exception of those who had
met in council, apparently as much untenanted
as when they came fresh from the hands of
their Almighty Creator. The eye could range,
in every direction, through the long and shadowed vistas of the trees; but nowhere was any
object to be seen that did not properly belong
to the peaceful and slumbering scenery.
Here and there a bird was heard fluttering
among the branches of the beeches, and occasionally a squirrel dropped a nut, drawing the
startled looks of the party for a moment to the
place; but the instant the casual interruption
ceased, the passing air was heard murmuring
above their heads, along that verdant and undulating surface of forest, which spread itself
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unbroken, unless by stream or lake, over such
a vast region of country. Across the tract of
wilderness which lay between the Delawares
and the village of their enemies, it seemed as if
the foot of man had never trodden, so breathing and deep was the silence in which it lay.
But Hawkeye, whose duty led him foremost
in the adventure, knew the character of those
with whom he was about to contend too well
to trust the treacherous quiet.
When he saw his little band collected, the
scout threw “killdeer” into the hollow of his
arm, and making a silent signal that he would
be followed, he led them many rods toward the
rear, into the bed of a little brook which they
had crossed in advancing. Here he halted, and
after waiting for the whole of his grave and attentive warriors to close about him, he spoke in
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Delaware, demanding:
“Do any of my young men know whither
this run will lead us?”
A Delaware stretched forth a hand, with the
two fingers separated, and indicating the manner in which they were joined at the root, he
answered:
“Before the sun could go his own length, the
little water will be in the big.” Then he added,
pointing in the direction of the place he mentioned, “the two make enough for the beavers.”
“I thought as much,” returned the scout,
glancing his eye upward at the opening in the
tree-tops, “from the course it takes, and the
bearings of the mountains. Men, we will keep
within the cover of its banks till we scent the
Hurons.”
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His companions gave the usual brief exclamation of assent, but, perceiving that their
leader was about to lead the way in person,
one or two made signs that all was not as it
should be. Hawkeye, who comprehended their
meaning glances, turned and perceived that
his party had been followed thus far by the
singing-master.
“Do you know, friend,” asked the scout,
gravely, and perhaps with a little of the pride of
conscious deserving in his manner, “that this is
a band of rangers chosen for the most desperate service, and put under the command of one
who, though another might say it with a better face, will not be apt to leave them idle. It
may not be five, it cannot be thirty minutes, before we tread on the body of a Huron, living or
dead.”
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“Though not admonished of your intentions
in words,” returned David, whose face was a
little flushed, and whose ordinarily quiet and
unmeaning eyes glimmered with an expression of unusual fire, “your men have reminded
me of the children of Jacob going out to battle
against the Shechemites, for wickedly aspiring
to wedlock with a woman of a race that was
favored of the Lord. Now, I have journeyed
far, and sojourned much in good and evil with
the maiden ye seek; and, though not a man
of war, with my loins girded and my sword
sharpened, yet would I gladly strike a blow in
her behalf.”
The scout hesitated, as if weighing the
chances of such a strange enlistment in his
mind before he answered:
“You know not the use of any we’pon. You
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carry no rifle; and believe me, what the Mingoes take they will freely give again.”
“Though not a vaunting and bloodily disposed Goliath,” returned David, drawing a
sling from beneath his parti-colored and uncouth attire, “I have not forgotten the example of the Jewish boy. With this ancient instrument of war have I practised much in my
youth, and peradventure the skill has not entirely departed from me.”
“Ay!” said Hawkeye, considering the deerskin thong and apron, with a cold and discouraging eye; “the thing might do its work among
arrows, or even knives; but these Mengwe have
been furnished by the Frenchers with a good
grooved barrel a man. However, it seems to
be your gift to go unharmed amid fire; and
as you have hitherto been favored–major, you
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have left your rifle at a cock; a single shot before the time would be just twenty scalps lost
to no purpose–singer, you can follow; we may
find use for you in the shoutings.”
“I thank you, friend,” returned David, supplying himself, like his royal namesake, from
among the pebbles of the brook; “though not
given to the desire to kill, had you sent me
away my spirit would have been troubled.”
“Remember,” added the scout, tapping his
own head significantly on that spot where
Gamut was yet sore, “we come to fight, and not
to musickate. Until the general whoop is given,
nothing speaks but the rifle.”
David nodded, as much to signify his acquiescence with the terms; and then Hawkeye,
casting another observant glance over his followers made the signal to proceed.
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Their route lay, for the distance of a mile,
along the bed of the water-course. Though protected from any great danger of observation by
the precipitous banks, and the thick shrubbery
which skirted the stream, no precaution known
to an Indian attack was neglected. A warrior
rather crawled than walked on each flank so as
to catch occasional glimpses into the forest; and
every few minutes the band came to a halt, and
listened for hostile sounds, with an acuteness
of organs that would be scarcely conceivable
to a man in a less natural state. Their march
was, however, unmolested, and they reached
the point where the lesser stream was lost in
the greater, without the smallest evidence that
their progress had been noted. Here the scout
again halted, to consult the signs of the forest.
“We are likely to have a good day for a
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fight,” he said, in English, addressing Heyward, and glancing his eyes upward at the
clouds, which began to move in broad sheets
across the firmament; “a bright sun and a glittering barrel are no friends to true sight. Everything is favorable; they have the wind, which
will bring down their noises and their smoke,
too, no little matter in itself; whereas, with us it
will be first a shot, and then a clear view. But
here is an end to our cover; the beavers have
had the range of this stream for hundreds of
years, and what atween their food and their
dams, there is, as you see, many a girdled stub,
but few living trees.”
Hawkeye had, in truth, in these few words,
given no bad description of the prospect that
now lay in their front. The brook was irregular
in its width, sometimes shooting through nar-
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row fissures in the rocks, and at others spreading over acres of bottom land, forming little areas that might be termed ponds. Everywhere
along its bands were the moldering relics of
dead trees, in all the stages of decay, from those
that groaned on their tottering trunks to such as
had recently been robbed of those rugged coats
that so mysteriously contain their principle of
life. A few long, low, and moss-covered piles
were scattered among them, like the memorials of a former and long-departed generation.
All these minute particulars were noted by
the scout, with a gravity and interest that they
probably had never before attracted. He knew
that the Huron encampment lay a short half
mile up the brook; and, with the characteristic anxiety of one who dreaded a hidden danger, he was greatly troubled at not finding the
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smallest trace of the presence of his enemy.
Once or twice he felt induced to give the order
for a rush, and to attempt the village by surprise; but his experience quickly admonished
him of the danger of so useless an experiment.
Then he listened intently, and with painful uncertainty, for the sounds of hostility in the quarter where Uncas was left; but nothing was audible except the sighing of the wind, that began to sweep over the bosom of the forest in
gusts which threatened a tempest. At length,
yielding rather to his unusual impatience than
taking counsel from his knowledge, he determined to bring matters to an issue, by unmasking his force, and proceeding cautiously, but
steadily, up the stream.
The scout had stood, while making his observations, sheltered by a brake, and his com-
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panions still lay in the bed of the ravine,
through which the smaller stream debouched;
but on hearing his low, though intelligible, signal the whole party stole up the bank, like
so many dark specters, and silently arranged
themselves around him. Pointing in the direction he wished to proceed, Hawkeye advanced,
the band breaking off in single files, and following so accurately in his footsteps, as to leave it,
if we except Heyward and David, the trail of
but a single man.
The party was, however, scarcely uncovered
before a volley from a dozen rifles was heard
in their rear; and a Delaware leaping high in to
the air, like a wounded deer, fell at his whole
length, dead.
“Ah, I feared some deviltry like this!” exclaimed the scout, in English, adding, with the
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quickness of thought, in his adopted tongue:
“To cover, men, and charge!”
The band dispersed at the word, and before
Heyward had well recovered from his surprise,
he found himself standing alone with David.
Luckily the Hurons had already fallen back,
and he was safe from their fire. But this state
of things was evidently to be of short continuance; for the scout set the example of pressing
on their retreat, by discharging his rifle, and
darting from tree to tree as his enemy slowly
yielded ground.
It would seem that the assault had been
made by a very small party of the Hurons,
which, however, continued to increase in numbers, as it retired on its friends, until the return fire was very nearly, if not quite, equal to
that maintained by the advancing Delawares.
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Heyward threw himself among the combatants, and imitating the necessary caution of his
companions, he made quick discharges with
his own rifle. The contest now grew warm and
stationary. Few were injured, as both parties
kept their bodies as much protected as possible by the trees; never, indeed, exposing any
part of their persons except in the act of taking aim. But the chances were gradually growing unfavorable to Hawkeye and his band. The
quick-sighted scout perceived his danger without knowing how to remedy it. He saw it was
more dangerous to retreat than to maintain his
ground: while he found his enemy throwing
out men on his flank; which rendered the task
of keeping themselves covered so very difficult
to the Delawares, as nearly to silence their fire.
At this embarrassing moment, when they began to think the whole of the hostile tribe was
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gradually encircling them, they heard the yell
of combatants and the rattling of arms echoing
under the arches of the wood at the place where
Uncas was posted, a bottom which, in a manner, lay beneath the ground on which Hawkeye
and his party were contending.
The effects of this attack were instantaneous,
and to the scout and his friends greatly relieving. It would seem that, while his own surprise
had been anticipated, and had consequently
failed, the enemy, in their turn, having been deceived in its object and in his numbers, had left
too small a force to resist the impetuous onset
of the young Mohican. This fact was doubly
apparent, by the rapid manner in which the
battle in the forest rolled upward toward the
village, and by an instant falling off in the number of their assailants, who rushed to assist in
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maintaining the front, and, as it now proved to
be, the principal point of defense.
Animating his followers by his voice, and his
own example, Hawkeye then gave the word
to bear down upon their foes. The charge, in
that rude species of warfare, consisted merely
in pushing from cover to cover, nigher to the
enemy; and in this maneuver he was instantly
and successfully obeyed. The Hurons were
compelled to withdraw, and the scene of the
contest rapidly changed from the more open
ground, on which it had commenced, to a spot
where the assailed found a thicket to rest upon.
Here the struggle was protracted, arduous and
seemingly of doubtful issue; the Delawares,
though none of them fell, beginning to bleed
freely, in consequence of the disadvantage at
which they were held.
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In this crisis, Hawkeye found means to get
behind the same tree as that which served for a
cover to Heyward; most of his own combatants
being within call, a little on his right, where
they maintained rapid, though fruitless, discharges on their sheltered enemies.
“You are a young man, major,” said the
scout, dropping the butt of “killdeer” to the
earth, and leaning on the barrel, a little fatigued with his previous industry; “and it may
be your gift to lead armies, at some future day,
ag’in these imps, the Mingoes. You may here
see the philosophy of an Indian fight. It consists mainly in ready hand, a quick eye and a
good cover. Now, if you had a company of the
Royal Americans here, in what manner would
you set them to work in this business?”
“The bayonet would make a road.”
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“Ay, there is white reason in what you say;
but a man must ask himself, in this wilderness,
how many lives he can spare. No–horse26 ,”
continued the scout, shaking his head, like one
who mused; “horse, I am ashamed to say must
sooner or later decide these scrimmages. The
brutes are better than men, and to horse must
26 The American forest admits of the passage of
horses, there being little underbrush, and few tangled
brakes. The plan of Hawkeye is the one which has always proved the most successful in the battles between
the whites and the Indians. Wayne, in his celebrated
campaign on the Miami, received the fire of his enemies
in line; and then causing his dragoons to wheel round
his flanks, the Indians were driven from their covers before they had time to load. One of the most conspicuous
of the chiefs who fought in the battle of Miami assured
the writer, that the red men could not fight the warriors
with “long knives and leather stockings”; meaning the
dragoons with their sabers and boots.
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we come at last. Put a shodden hoof on the
moccasin of a red-skin, and, if his rifle be once
emptied, he will never stop to load it again.”
“This is a subject that might better be discussed at another time,” returned Heyward;
“shall we charge?”
“I see no contradiction to the gifts of any man
in passing his breathing spells in useful reflections,” the scout replied. “As to rush, I little
relish such a measure; for a scalp or two must
be thrown away in the attempt. And yet,” he
added, bending his head aside, to catch the
sounds of the distant combat, “if we are to be
of use to Uncas, these knaves in our front must
be got rid of.”
Then, turning with a prompt and decided
air, he called aloud to his Indians, in their
own language. His words were answered by
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a shout; and, at a given signal, each warrior
made a swift movement around his particular
tree. The sight of so many dark bodies, glancing before their eyes at the same instant, drew a
hasty and consequently an ineffectual fire from
the Hurons. Without stopping to breathe, the
Delawares leaped in long bounds toward the
wood, like so many panthers springing upon
their prey. Hawkeye was in front, brandishing his terrible rifle and animating his followers by his example. A few of the older and
more cunning Hurons, who had not been deceived by the artifice which had been practiced
to draw their fire, now made a close and deadly
discharge of their pieces and justified the apprehensions of the scout by felling three of his
foremost warriors. But the shock was insufficient to repel the impetus of the charge. The
Delawares broke into the cover with the feroc-
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ity of their natures and swept away every trace
of resistance by the fury of the onset.
The combat endured only for an instant,
hand to hand, and then the assailed yielded
ground rapidly, until they reached the opposite margin of the thicket, where they clung to
the cover, with the sort of obstinacy that is so
often witnessed in hunted brutes. At this critical moment, when the success of the struggle
was again becoming doubtful, the crack of a rifle was heard behind the Hurons, and a bullet came whizzing from among some beaver
lodges, which were situated in the clearing, in
their rear, and was followed by the fierce and
appalling yell of the war-whoop.
“There speaks the Sagamore!”
shouted
Hawkeye, answering the cry with his own
stentorian voice; “we have them now in face
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and back!”
The effect on the Hurons was instantaneous.
Discouraged by an assault from a quarter that
left them no opportunity for cover, the warriors
uttered a common yell of disappointment, and
breaking off in a body, they spread themselves
across the opening, heedless of every consideration but flight. Many fell, in making the experiment, under the bullets and the blows of
the pursuing Delawares.
We shall not pause to detail the meeting
between the scout and Chingachgook, or the
more touching interview that Duncan held
with Munro. A few brief and hurried words
served to explain the state of things to both parties; and then Hawkeye, pointing out the Sagamore to his band, resigned the chief authority
into the hands of the Mohican chief. Chingach-
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gook assumed the station to which his birth
and experience gave him so distinguished a
claim, with the grave dignity that always gives
force to the mandates of a native warrior. Following the footsteps of the scout, he led the
party back through the thicket, his men scalping the fallen Hurons and secreting the bodies
of their own dead as they proceeded, until they
gained a point where the former was content to
make a halt.
The warriors, who had breathed themselves
freely in the preceding struggle, were now
posted on a bit of level ground, sprinkled with
trees in sufficient numbers to conceal them.
The land fell away rather precipitately in front,
and beneath their eyes stretched, for several
miles, a narrow, dark, and wooded vale. It was
through this dense and dark forest that Uncas
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was still contending with the main body of the
Hurons.
The Mohican and his friends advanced to the
brow of the hill, and listened, with practised
ears, to the sounds of the combat. A few birds
hovered over the leafy bosom of the valley,
frightened from their secluded nests; and here
and there a light vapory cloud, which seemed
already blending with the atmosphere, arose
above the trees, and indicated some spot where
the struggle had been fierce and stationary.
“The fight is coming up the ascent,” said
Duncan, pointing in the direction of a new explosion of firearms; “we are too much in the
center of their line to be effective.”
“They will incline into the hollow, where the
cover is thicker,” said the scout, “and that will
leave us well on their flank. Go, Sagamore;
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you will hardly be in time to give the whoop,
and lead on the young men. I will fight this
scrimmage with warriors of my own color. You
know me, Mohican; not a Huron of them all
shall cross the swell, into your rear, without the
notice of ‘killdeer’.”
The Indian chief paused another moment to
consider the signs of the contest, which was
now rolling rapidly up the ascent, a certain evidence that the Delawares triumphed; nor did
he actually quit the place until admonished of
the proximity of his friends, as well as enemies,
by the bullets of the former, which began to
patter among the dried leaves on the ground,
like the bits of falling hail which precede the
bursting of the tempest. Hawkeye and his three
companions withdrew a few paces to a shelter,
and awaited the issue with calmness that noth-
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ing but great practise could impart in such a
scene.
It was not long before the reports of the rifles began to lose the echoes of the woods, and
to sound like weapons discharged in the open
air. Then a warrior appeared, here and there,
driven to the skirts of the forest, and rallying as he entered the clearing, as at the place
where the final stand was to be made. These
were soon joined by others, until a long line of
swarthy figures was to be seen clinging to the
cover with the obstinacy of desperation. Heyward began to grow impatient, and turned his
eyes anxiously in the direction of Chingachgook. The chief was seated on a rock, with
nothing visible but his calm visage, considering the spectacle with an eye as deliberate as if
he were posted there merely to view the strug-
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gle.
“The time has come for the Delaware to
strike!” said Duncan.
“Not so, not so,” returned the scout; “when
he scents his friends, he will let them know that
he is here. See, see; the knaves are getting in
that clump of pines, like bees settling after their
flight. By the Lord, a squaw might put a bullet
into the center of such a knot of dark skins!”
At that instant the whoop was given, and a
dozen Hurons fell by a discharge from Chingachgook and his band. The shout that followed was answered by a single war-cry from
the forest, and a yell passed through the air that
sounded as if a thousand throats were united
in a common effort. The Hurons staggered, deserting the center of their line, and Uncas issued from the forest through the opening they
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left, at the head of a hundred warriors.
Waving his hands right and left, the young
chief pointed out the enemy to his followers, who separated in pursuit. The war now
divided, both wings of the broken Hurons
seeking protection in the woods again, hotly
pressed by the victorious warriors of the
Lenape. A minute might have passed, but the
sounds were already receding in different directions, and gradually losing their distinctness
beneath the echoing arches of the woods. One
little knot of Hurons, however, had disdained
to seek a cover, and were retiring, like lions at
bay, slowly and sullenly up the acclivity which
Chingachgook and his band had just deserted,
to mingle more closely in the fray. Magua was
conspicuous in this party, both by his fierce and
savage mien, and by the air of haughty author-
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ity he yet maintained.
In his eagerness to expedite the pursuit, Uncas had left himself nearly alone; but the moment his eye caught the figure of Le Subtil, every other consideration was forgotten. Raising his cry of battle, which recalled some six
or seven warriors, and reckless of the disparity of their numbers, he rushed upon his enemy. Le Renard, who watched the movement,
paused to receive him with secret joy. But at
the moment when he thought the rashness of
his impetuous young assailant had left him
at his mercy, another shout was given, and
La Longue Carabine was seen rushing to the
rescue, attended by all his white associates.
The Huron instantly turned, and commenced
a rapid retreat up the ascent.
There was no time for greetings or congrat-
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ulations; for Uncas, though unconscious of the
presence of his friends, continued the pursuit
with the velocity of the wind. In vain Hawkeye
called to him to respect the covers; the young
Mohican braved the dangerous fire of his enemies, and soon compelled them to a flight as
swift as his own headlong speed. It was fortunate that the race was of short continuance, and
that the white men were much favored by their
position, or the Delaware would soon have
outstripped all his companions, and fallen a
victim to his own temerity. But, ere such a
calamity could happen, the pursuers and pursued entered the Wyandot village, within striking distance of each other.
Excited by the presence of their dwellings,
and tired of the chase, the Hurons now made
a stand, and fought around their council-lodge
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with the fury of despair. The onset and the issue were like the passage and destruction of
a whirlwind. The tomahawk of Uncas, the
blows of Hawkeye, and even the still nervous
arm of Munro were all busy for that passing
moment, and the ground was quickly strewed
with their enemies. Still Magua, though daring and much exposed, escaped from every effort against his life, with that sort of fabled
protection that was made to overlook the fortunes of favored heroes in the legends of ancient poetry. Raising a yell that spoke volumes
of anger and disappointment, the subtle chief,
when he saw his comrades fallen, darted away
from the place, attended by his two only surviving friends, leaving the Delawares engaged
in stripping the dead of the bloody trophies of
their victory.
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But Uncas, who had vainly sought him in
the melee, bounded forward in pursuit; Hawkeye, Heyward and David still pressing on his
footsteps. The utmost that the scout could effect, was to keep the muzzle of his rifle a little in advance of his friend, to whom, however, it answered every purpose of a charmed
shield. Once Magua appeared disposed to
make another and a final effort to revenge his
losses; but, abandoning his intention as soon
as demonstrated, he leaped into a thicket of
bushes, through which he was followed by his
enemies, and suddenly entered the mouth of
the cave already known to the reader. Hawkeye, who had only forborne to fire in tenderness to Uncas, raised a shout of success, and
proclaimed aloud that now they were certain
of their game. The pursuers dashed into the
long and narrow entrance, in time to catch a
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glimpse of the retreating forms of the Hurons.
Their passage through the natural galleries and
subterraneous apartments of the cavern was
preceded by the shrieks and cries of hundreds
of women and children. The place, seen by
its dim and uncertain light, appeared like the
shades of the infernal regions, across which unhappy ghosts and savage demons were flitting
in multitudes.
Still Uncas kept his eye on Magua, as if life
to him possessed but a single object. Heyward
and the scout still pressed on his rear, actuated,
though possibly in a less degree, by a common
feeling. But their way was becoming intricate,
in those dark and gloomy passages, and the
glimpses of the retiring warriors less distinct
and frequent; and for a moment the trace was
believed to be lost, when a white robe was seen
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fluttering in the further extremity of a passage
that seemed to lead up the mountain.
“‘Tis Cora!” exclaimed Heyward, in a voice
in which horror and delight were wildly mingled.
“Cora! Cora!” echoed Uncas, bounding forward like a deer.
“‘Tis the maiden!”
shouted the scout.
“Courage, lady; we come! we come!”
The chase was renewed with a diligence rendered tenfold encouraging by this glimpse of
the captive. But the way was rugged, broken,
and in spots nearly impassable. Uncas abandoned his rifle, and leaped forward with headlong precipitation. Heyward rashly imitated
his example, though both were, a moment afterward, admonished of his madness by hearing the bellowing of a piece, that the Hurons
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found time to discharge down the passage in
the rocks, the bullet from which even gave the
young Mohican a slight wound.
“We must close!” said the scout, passing his
friends by a desperate leap; “the knaves will
pick us all off at this distance; and see, they
hold the maiden so as to shield themselves!”
Though his words were unheeded, or rather
unheard, his example was followed by his
companions, who, by incredible exertions, got
near enough to the fugitives to perceive that
Cora was borne along between the two warriors while Magua prescribed the direction and
manner of their flight. At this moment the
forms of all four were strongly drawn against
an opening in the sky, and they disappeared.
Nearly frantic with disappointment, Uncas and
Heyward increased efforts that already seemed
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superhuman, and they issued from the cavern
on the side of the mountain, in time to note the
route of the pursued. The course lay up the ascent, and still continued hazardous and laborious.
Encumbered by his rifle, and, perhaps, not
sustained by so deep an interest in the captive
as his companions, the scout suffered the latter
to precede him a little, Uncas, in his turn, taking the lead of Heyward. In this manner, rocks,
precipices and difficulties were surmounted in
an incredibly short space, that at another time,
and under other circumstances, would have
been deemed almost insuperable. But the impetuous young men were rewarded by finding
that, encumbered with Cora, the Hurons were
losing ground in the race.
“Stay, dog of the Wyandots!” exclaimed Un-
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cas, shaking his bright tomahawk at Magua; “a
Delaware girl calls stay!”
“I will go no further!” cried Cora, stopping
unexpectedly on a ledge of rock, that overhung
a deep precipice, at no great distance from the
summit of the mountain. “Kill me if thou wilt,
detestable Huron; I will go no further.”
The supporters of the maiden raised their
ready tomahawks with the impious joy that
fiends are thought to take in mischief, but
Magua stayed the uplifted arms. The Huron
chief, after casting the weapons he had wrested
from his companions over the rock, drew his
knife, and turned to his captive, with a look in
which conflicting passions fiercely contended.
“Woman,” he said, “chose; the wigwam or
the knife of Le Subtil!”
Cora regarded him not, but dropping on her
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knees, she raised her eyes and stretched her
arms toward heaven, saying in a meek and yet
confiding voice:
“I am thine; do with me as thou seest best!”
“Woman,” repeated Magua, hoarsely, and
endeavoring in vain to catch a glance from her
serene and beaming eye, “choose!”
But Cora neither heard nor heeded his demand. The form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on high, but
dropped it again with a bewildered air, like one
who doubted. Once more he struggled with
himself and lifted the keen weapon again; but
just then a piercing cry was heard above them,
and Uncas appeared, leaping frantically, from a
fearful height, upon the ledge. Magua recoiled
a step; and one of his assistants, profiting by the
chance, sheathed his own knife in the bosom of
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Cora.
The Huron sprang like a tiger on his offending and already retreating country man, but the
falling form of Uncas separated the unnatural
combatants. Diverted from his object by this
interruption, and maddened by the murder he
had just witnessed, Magua buried his weapon
in the back of the prostrate Delaware, uttering
an unearthly shout as he committed the dastardly deed. But Uncas arose from the blow, as
the wounded panther turns upon his foe, and
struck the murderer of Cora to his feet, by an effort in which the last of his failing strength was
expended. Then, with a stern and steady look,
he turned to Le Subtil, and indicated by the expression of his eye all that he would do had not
the power deserted him. The latter seized the
nerveless arm of the unresisting Delaware, and
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passed his knife into his bosom three several
times, before his victim, still keeping his gaze
riveted on his enemy, with a look of inextinguishable scorn, fell dead at his feet.
“Mercy! mercy! Huron,” cried Heyward,
from above, in tones nearly choked by horror;
“give mercy, and thou shalt receive from it!”
Whirling the bloody knife up at the imploring youth, the victorious Magua uttered a cry
so fierce, so wild, and yet so joyous, that it conveyed the sounds of savage triumph to the ears
of those who fought in the valley, a thousand
feet below. He was answered by a burst from
the lips of the scout, whose tall person was just
then seen moving swiftly toward him, along
those dangerous crags, with steps as bold and
reckless as if he possessed the power to move in
air. But when the hunter reached the scene of
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the ruthless massacre, the ledge was tenanted
only by the dead.
His keen eye took a single look at the victims, and then shot its glances over the difficulties of the ascent in his front. A form stood
at the brow of the mountain, on the very edge
of the giddy height, with uplifted arms, in an
awful attitude of menace. Without stopping
to consider his person, the rifle of Hawkeye
was raised; but a rock, which fell on the head
of one of the fugitives below, exposed the indignant and glowing countenance of the honest Gamut. Then Magua issued from a crevice,
and, stepping with calm indifference over the
body of the last of his associates, he leaped a
wide fissure, and ascended the rocks at a point
where the arm of David could not reach him.
A single bound would carry him to the brow of
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the precipice, and assure his safety. Before taking the leap, however, the Huron paused, and
shaking his hand at the scout, he shouted:
“The pale faces are dogs! the Delawares
women! Magua leaves them on the rocks, for
the crows!”
Laughing hoarsely, he made a desperate
leap, and fell short of his mark, though his
hands grasped a shrub on the verge of the
height. The form of Hawkeye had crouched
like a beast about to take its spring, and his
frame trembled so violently with eagerness
that the muzzle of the half-raised rifle played
like a leaf fluttering in the wind. Without exhausting himself with fruitless efforts, the cunning Magua suffered his body to drop to the
length of his arms, and found a fragment for
his feet to rest on. Then, summoning all his
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powers, he renewed the attempt, and so far
succeeded as to draw his knees on the edge of
the mountain. It was now, when the body of
his enemy was most collected together, that the
agitated weapon of the scout was drawn to his
shoulder. The surrounding rocks themselves
were not steadier than the piece became, for the
single instant that it poured out its contents.
The arms of the Huron relaxed, and his body
fell back a little, while his knees still kept their
position. Turning a relentless look on his enemy, he shook a hand in grim defiance. But his
hold loosened, and his dark person was seen
cutting the air with its head downward, for a
fleeting instant, until it glided past the fringe
of shrubbery which clung to the mountain, in
its rapid flight to destruction.
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“They fought, like brave men, long
and well,
They piled that ground with
Moslem slain,
They conquered–but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
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His smile when rang their loud
hurrah,
And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night’s repose,
Like flowers at set of sun.”
–Halleck.
THE SUN FOUND the Lenape, on the succeeding day, a nation of mourners. The sounds
of the battle were over, and they had fed fat
their ancient grudge, and had avenged their
recent quarrel with the Mengwe, by the destruction of a whole community. The black and
murky atmosphere that floated around the spot
where the Hurons had encamped, sufficiently
announced of itself, the fate of that wandering tribe; while hundreds of ravens, that struggled above the summits of the mountains, or
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swept, in noisy flocks, across the wide ranges
of the woods, furnished a frightful direction to
the scene of the combat. In short, any eye at
all practised in the signs of a frontier warfare
might easily have traced all those unerring evidences of the ruthless results which attend an
Indian vengeance.
Still, the sun rose on the Lenape a nation of
mourners. No shouts of success, no songs of
triumph, were heard, in rejoicings for their victory. The latest straggler had returned from his
fell employment, only to strip himself of the
terrific emblems of his bloody calling, and to
join in the lamentations of his countrymen, as a
stricken people. Pride and exultation were supplanted by humility, and the fiercest of human
passions was already succeeded by the most
profound and unequivocal demonstrations of
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grief.
The lodges were deserted; but a broad belt
of earnest faces encircled a spot in their vicinity, whither everything possessing life had repaired, and where all were now collected, in
deep and awful silence. Though beings of every rank and age, of both sexes, and of all pursuits, had united to form this breathing wall of
bodies, they were influenced by a single emotion. Each eye was riveted on the center of that
ring, which contained the objects of so much
and of so common an interest.
Six Delaware girls, with their long, dark,
flowing tresses falling loosely across their bosoms, stood apart, and only gave proof of their
existence as they occasionally strewed sweetscented herbs and forest flowers on a litter of
fragrant plants that, under a pall of Indian
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robes, supported all that now remained of the
ardent, high-souled, and generous Cora. Her
form was concealed in many wrappers of the
same simple manufacture, and her face was
shut forever from the gaze of men. At her feet
was seated the desolate Munro. His aged head
was bowed nearly to the earth, in compelled
submission to the stroke of Providence; but a
hidden anguish struggled about his furrowed
brow, that was only partially concealed by the
careless locks of gray that had fallen, neglected,
on his temples. Gamut stood at his side, his
meek head bared to the rays of the sun, while
his eyes, wandering and concerned, seemed to
be equally divided between that little volume,
which contained so many quaint but holy maxims, and the being in whose behalf his soul
yearned to administer consolation. Heyward
was also nigh, supporting himself against a
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tree, and endeavoring to keep down those sudden risings of sorrow that it required his utmost manhood to subdue.
But sad and melancholy as this group may
easily be imagined, it was far less touching
than another, that occupied the opposite space
of the same area. Seated, as in life, with his
form and limbs arranged in grave and decent
composure, Uncas appeared, arrayed in the
most gorgeous ornaments that the wealth of
the tribe could furnish. Rich plumes nodded
above his head; wampum, gorgets, bracelets,
and medals, adorned his person in profusion;
though his dull eye and vacant lineaments too
strongly contradicted the idle tale of pride they
would convey.
Directly in front of the corpse Chingachgook
was placed, without arms, paint or adornment
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of any sort, except the bright blue blazonry of
his race, that was indelibly impressed on his
naked bosom. During the long period that the
tribe had thus been collected, the Mohican warrior had kept a steady, anxious look on the cold
and senseless countenance of his son. So riveted and intense had been that gaze, and so
changeless his attitude, that a stranger might
not have told the living from the dead, but for
the occasional gleamings of a troubled spirit,
that shot athwart the dark visage of one, and
the deathlike calm that had forever settled on
the lineaments of the other. The scout was hard
by, leaning in a pensive posture on his own
fatal and avenging weapon; while Tamenund,
supported by the elders of his nation, occupied
a high place at hand, whence he might look
down on the mute and sorrowful assemblage
of his people.
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Just within the inner edge of the circle stood
a soldier, in the military attire of a strange nation; and without it was his warhorse, in the
center of a collection of mounted domestics,
seemingly in readiness to undertake some distant journey. The vestments of the stranger announced him to be one who held a responsible situation near the person of the captain of
the Canadas; and who, as it would now seem,
finding his errand of peace frustrated by the
fierce impetuosity of his allies, was content to
become a silent and sad spectator of the fruits
of a contest that he had arrived too late to anticipate.
The day was drawing to the close of its first
quarter, and yet had the multitude maintained
its breathing stillness since its dawn.
No sound louder than a stifled sob had been
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heard among them, nor had even a limb been
moved throughout that long and painful period, except to perform the simple and touching offerings that were made, from time to
time, in commemoration of the dead. The
patience and forbearance of Indian fortitude
could alone support such an appearance of abstraction, as seemed now to have turned each
dark and motionless figure into stone.
At length, the sage of the Delawares
stretched forth an arm, and leaning on the
shoulders of his attendants, he arose with an
air as feeble as if another age had already intervened between the man who had met his nation the preceding day, and him who now tottered on his elevated stand.
“Men of the Lenape!” he said, in low, hollow
tones, that sounded like a voice charged with
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some prophetic mission: “the face of the Manitou is behind a cloud! His eye is turned from
you; His ears are shut; His tongue gives no answer. You see him not; yet His judgments are
before you. Let your hearts be open and your
spirits tell no lie. Men of the Lenape! the face
of the Manitou is behind a cloud.”
As this simple and yet terrible annunciation
stole on the ears of the multitude, a stillness as
deep and awful succeeded as if the venerated
spirit they worshiped had uttered the words
without the aid of human organs; and even
the inanimate Uncas appeared a being of life,
compared with the humbled and submissive
throng by whom he was surrounded. As the
immediate effect, however, gradually passed
away, a low murmur of voices commenced a
sort of chant in honor of the dead. The sounds
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were those of females, and were thrillingly soft
and wailing. The words were connected by no
regular continuation, but as one ceased another
took up the eulogy, or lamentation, whichever
it might be called, and gave vent to her emotions in such language as was suggested by
her feelings and the occasion. At intervals the
speaker was interrupted by general and loud
bursts of sorrow, during which the girls around
the bier of Cora plucked the plants and flowers blindly from her body, as if bewildered
with grief. But, in the milder moments of their
plaint, these emblems of purity and sweetness
were cast back to their places, with every sign
of tenderness and regret. Though rendered less
connected by many and general interruptions
and outbreakings, a translation of their language would have contained a regular descant,
which, in substance, might have proved to pos-
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sess a train of consecutive ideas.
A girl, selected for the task by her rank
and qualifications, commenced by modest allusions to the qualities of the deceased warrior, embellishing her expressions with those
oriental images that the Indians have probably brought with them from the extremes of the
other continent, and which form of themselves
a link to connect the ancient histories of the
two worlds. She called him the “panther of his
tribe”; and described him as one whose moccasin left no trail on the dews; whose bound
was like the leap of a young fawn; whose eye
was brighter than a star in the dark night; and
whose voice, in battle, was loud as the thunder of the Manitou. She reminded him of the
mother who bore him, and dwelt forcibly on
the happiness she must feel in possessing such
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a son. She bade him tell her, when they met in
the world of spirits, that the Delaware girls had
shed tears above the grave of her child, and had
called her blessed.
Then, they who succeeded, changing their
tones to a milder and still more tender strain,
alluded, with the delicacy and sensitiveness
of women, to the stranger maiden, who had
left the upper earth at a time so near his own
departure, as to render the will of the Great
Spirit too manifest to be disregarded. They admonished him to be kind to her, and to have
consideration for her ignorance of those arts
which were so necessary to the comfort of a
warrior like himself. They dwelled upon her
matchless beauty, and on her noble resolution,
without the taint of envy, and as angels may
be thought to delight in a superior excellence;
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adding, that these endowments should prove
more than equivalent for any little imperfection
in her education.
After which, others again, in due succession,
spoke to the maiden herself, in the low, soft language of tenderness and love. They exhorted
her to be of cheerful mind, and to fear nothing for her future welfare. A hunter would be
her companion, who knew how to provide for
her smallest wants; and a warrior was at her
side who was able to protect he against every
danger. They promised that her path should be
pleasant, and her burden light. They cautioned
her against unavailing regrets for the friends
of her youth, and the scenes where her father
had dwelt; assuring her that the “blessed hunting grounds of the Lenape,” contained vales as
pleasant, streams as pure; and flowers as sweet,
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as the “heaven of the pale faces.” They advised her to be attentive to the wants of her
companion, and never to forget the distinction
which the Manitou had so wisely established
between them. Then, in a wild burst of their
chant they sang with united voices the temper
of the Mohican’s mind. They pronounced him
noble, manly and generous; all that became a
warrior, and all that a maid might love. Clothing their ideas in the most remote and subtle
images, they betrayed, that, in the short period
of their intercourse, they had discovered, with
the intuitive perception of their sex, the truant
disposition of his inclinations. The Delaware
girls had found no favor in his eyes! He was of
a race that had once been lords on the shores
of the salt lake, and his wishes had led him
back to a people who dwelt about the graves
of his fathers. Why should not such a predilec-
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tion be encouraged! That she was of a blood
purer and richer than the rest of her nation, any
eye might have seen; that she was equal to the
dangers and daring of a life in the woods, her
conduct had proved; and now, they added, the
“wise one of the earth” had transplanted her to
a place where she would find congenial spirits,
and might be forever happy.
Then, with another transition in voice and
subject, allusions were made to the virgin who
wept in the adjacent lodge. They compared her
to flakes of snow; as pure, as white, as brilliant,
and as liable to melt in the fierce heats of summer, or congeal in the frosts of winter. They
doubted not that she was lovely in the eyes of
the young chief, whose skin and whose sorrow
seemed so like her own; but though far from
expressing such a preference, it was evident
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they deemed her less excellent than the maid
they mourned. Still they denied her no need
her rare charms might properly claim. Her
ringlets were compared to the exuberant tendrils of the vine, her eye to the blue vault of
heavens, and the most spotless cloud, with its
glowing flush of the sun, was admitted to be
less attractive than her bloom.
During these and similar songs nothing was
audible but the murmurs of the music; relieved, as it was, or rather rendered terrible,
by those occasional bursts of grief which might
be called its choruses. The Delawares themselves listened like charmed men; and it was
very apparent, by the variations of their speaking countenances, how deep and true was their
sympathy. Even David was not reluctant to
lend his ears to the tones of voices so sweet;
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CHAPTER 33
and long ere the chant was ended, his gaze announced that his soul was enthralled.
The scout, to whom alone, of all the white
men, the words were intelligible, suffered himself to be a little aroused from his meditative
posture, and bent his face aside, to catch their
meaning, as the girls proceeded. But when
they spoke of the future prospects of Cora and
Uncas, he shook his head, like one who knew
the error of their simple creed, and resuming
his reclining attitude, he maintained it until the
ceremony, if that might be called a ceremony, in
which feeling was so deeply imbued, was finished. Happily for the self-command of both
Heyward and Munro, they knew not the meaning of the wild sounds they heard.
Chingachgook was a solitary exception to
the interest manifested by the native part of the
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audience. His look never changed throughout
the whole of the scene, nor did a muscle move
in his rigid countenance, even at the wildest or
the most pathetic parts of the lamentation. The
cold and senseless remains of his son was all
to him, and every other sense but that of sight
seemed frozen, in order that his eyes might
take their final gaze at those lineaments he had
so long loved, and which were now about to be
closed forever from his view.
In this stage of the obsequies, a warrior much
renowned for deed in arms, and more especially for services in the recent combat, a man
of stern and grave demeanor, advanced slowly
from the crowd, and placed himself nigh the
person of the dead.
“Why hast thou left us, pride of the Wapanachki?” he said, addressing himself to the
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dull ears of Uncas, as if the empty clay retained
the faculties of the animated man; “thy time
has been like that of the sun when in the trees;
thy glory brighter than his light at noonday.
Thou art gone, youthful warrior, but a hundred Wyandots are clearing the briers from thy
path to the world of the spirits. Who that saw
thee in battle would believe that thou couldst
die? Who before thee has ever shown Uttawa
the way into the fight? Thy feet were like the
wings of eagles; thine arm heavier than falling
branches from the pine; and thy voice like the
Manitou when He speaks in the clouds. The
tongue of Uttawa is weak,” he added, looking about him with a melancholy gaze, “and
his heart exceeding heavy. Pride of the Wapanachki, why hast thou left us?”
He was succeeded by others, in due order,
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until most of the high and gifted men of the nation had sung or spoken their tribute of praise
over the manes of the deceased chief. When
each had ended, another deep and breathing
silence reigned in all the place.
Then a low, deep sound was heard, like the
suppressed accompaniment of distant music,
rising just high enough on the air to be audible, and yet so indistinctly, as to leave its character, and the place whence it proceeded, alike
matters of conjecture. It was, however, succeeded by another and another strain, each in
a higher key, until they grew on the ear, first
in long drawn and often repeated interjections,
and finally in words. The lips of Chingachgook had so far parted, as to announce that
it was the monody of the father. Though not
an eye was turned toward him nor the small-
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est sign of impatience exhibited, it was apparent, by the manner in which the multitude elevated their heads to listen, that they drank
in the sounds with an intenseness of attention,
that none but Tamenund himself had ever before commanded. But they listened in vain.
The strains rose just so loud as to become intelligible, and then grew fainter and more trembling, until they finally sank on the ear, as if
borne away by a passing breath of wind. The
lips of the Sagamore closed, and he remained
silent in his seat, looking with his riveted eye
and motionless form, like some creature that
had been turned from the Almighty hand with
the form but without the spirit of a man. The
Delawares who knew by these symptoms that
the mind of their friend was not prepared for
so mighty an effort of fortitude, relaxed in their
attention; and, with an innate delicacy, seemed
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to bestow all their thoughts on the obsequies of
the stranger maiden.
A signal was given, by one of the elder
chiefs, to the women who crowded that part
of the circle near which the body of Cora lay.
Obedient to the sign, the girls raised the bier
to the elevation of their heads, and advanced
with slow and regulated steps, chanting, as
they proceeded, another wailing song in praise
of the deceased. Gamut, who had been a close
observer of rites he deemed so heathenish, now
bent his head over the shoulder of the unconscious father, whispering:
“They move with the remains of thy child;
shall we not follow, and see them interred with
Christian burial?”
Munro started, as if the last trumpet had
sounded in his ear, and bestowing one anxious
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and hurried glance around him, he arose and
followed in the simple train, with the mien of
a soldier, but bearing the full burden of a parent’s suffering. His friends pressed around him
with a sorrow that was too strong to be termed
sympathy–even the young Frenchman joining
in the procession, with the air of a man who
was sensibly touched at the early and melancholy fate of one so lovely. But when the last
and humblest female of the tribe had joined
in the wild and yet ordered array, the men of
the Lenape contracted their circle, and formed
again around the person of Uncas, as silent, as
grave, and as motionless as before.
The place which had been chosen for the
grave of Cora was a little knoll, where a cluster
of young and healthful pines had taken root,
forming of themselves a melancholy and ap-
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propriate shade over the spot. On reaching it
the girls deposited their burden, and continued for many minutes waiting, with characteristic patience, and native timidity, for some evidence that they whose feelings were most concerned were content with the arrangement. At
length the scout, who alone understood their
habits, said, in their own language:
“My daughters have done well; the white
men thank them.”
Satisfied with this testimony in their favor,
the girls proceeded to deposit the body in a
shell, ingeniously, and not inelegantly, fabricated of the bark of the birch; after which they
lowered it into its dark and final abode. The
ceremony of covering the remains, and concealing the marks of the fresh earth, by leaves
and other natural and customary objects, was
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conducted with the same simple and silent
forms. But when the labors of the kind beings
who had performed these sad and friendly offices were so far completed, they hesitated, in a
way to show that they knew not how much further they might proceed. It was in this stage of
the rites that the scout again addressed them:
“My young women have done enough,” he
said: “the spirit of the pale face has no need
of food or raiment, their gifts being according
to the heaven of their color. I see,” he added,
glancing an eye at David, who was preparing his book in a manner that indicated an intention to lead the way in sacred song, “that
one who better knows the Christian fashions is
about to speak.”
The females stood modestly aside, and, from
having been the principal actors in the scene,
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they now became the meek and attentive observers of that which followed. During the
time David occupied in pouring out the pious
feelings of his spirit in this manner, not a sign
of surprise, nor a look of impatience, escaped
them. They listened like those who knew the
meaning of the strange words, and appeared
as if they felt the mingled emotions of sorrow,
hope, and resignation, they were intended to
convey.
Excited by the scene he had just witnessed,
and perhaps influenced by his own secret emotions, the master of song exceeded his usual
efforts. His full rich voice was not found to
suffer by a comparison with the soft tones of
the girls; and his more modulated strains possessed, at least for the ears of those to whom
they were peculiarly addressed, the additional
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power of intelligence. He ended the anthem, as
he had commenced it, in the midst of a grave
and solemn stillness.
When, however, the closing cadence had
fallen on the ears of his auditors, the secret, timorous glances of the eyes, and the general and
yet subdued movement of the assemblage, betrayed that something was expected from the
father of the deceased. Munro seemed sensible
that the time was come for him to exert what
is, perhaps, the greatest effort of which human
nature is capable. He bared his gray locks, and
looked around the timid and quiet throng by
which he was encircled, with a firm and collected countenance. Then, motioning with his
hand for the scout to listen, he said:
“Say to these kind and gentle females, that a
heart-broken and failing man returns them his
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thanks. Tell them, that the Being we all worship, under different names, will be mindful of
their charity; and that the time shall not be distant when we may assemble around His throne
without distinction of sex, or rank, or color.”
The scout listened to the tremulous voice in
which the veteran delivered these words, and
shook his head slowly when they were ended,
as one who doubted their efficacy.
“To tell them this,” he said, “would be to tell
them that the snows come not in the winter, or
that the sun shines fiercest when the trees are
stripped of their leaves.”
Then turning to the women, he made such
a communication of the other’s gratitude as he
deemed most suited to the capacities of his listeners. The head of Munro had already sunk
upon his chest, and he was again fast relapsing
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into melancholy, when the young Frenchman
before named ventured to touch him lightly on
the elbow. As soon as he had gained the attention of the mourning old man, he pointed
toward a group of young Indians, who approached with a light but closely covered litter,
and then pointed upward toward the sun.
“I understand you, sir,” returned Munro,
with a voice of forced firmness; “I understand
you. It is the will of Heaven, and I submit. Cora, my child! if the prayers of a
heart-broken father could avail thee now, how
blessed shouldst thou be! Come, gentlemen,”
he added, looking about him with an air of
lofty composure, though the anguish that quivered in his faded countenance was far too powerful to be concealed, “our duty here is ended;
let us depart.”
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Heyward gladly obeyed a summons that
took them from a spot where, each instant, he
felt his self-control was about to desert him.
While his companions were mounting, however, he found time to press the hand of the
scout, and to repeat the terms of an engagement they had made to meet again within the
posts of the British army. Then, gladly throwing himself into the saddle, he spurred his
charger to the side of the litter, whence low
and stifled sobs alone announced the presence
of Alice. In this manner, the head of Munro
again drooping on his bosom, with Heyward
and David following in sorrowing silence, and
attended by the aide of Montcalm with his
guard, all the white men, with the exception of
Hawkeye, passed from before the eyes of the
Delawares, and were buried in the vast forests
of that region.
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But the tie which, through their common
calamity, had united the feelings of these simple dwellers in the woods with the strangers
who had thus transiently visited them, was not
so easily broken. Years passed away before the
traditionary tale of the white maiden, and of
the young warrior of the Mohicans ceased to
beguile the long nights and tedious marches, or
to animate their youthful and brave with a desire for vengeance. Neither were the secondary
actors in these momentous incidents forgotten.
Through the medium of the scout, who served
for years afterward as a link between them and
civilized life, they learned, in answer to their
inquiries, that the “Gray Head” was speedily
gathered to his fathers–borne down, as was
erroneously believed, by his military misfortunes; and that the “Open Hand” had conveyed his surviving daughter far into the set-
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tlements of the pale faces, where her tears had
at last ceased to flow, and had been succeeded
by the bright smiles which were better suited
to her joyous nature.
But these were events of a time later than
that which concerns our tale. Deserted by all of
his color, Hawkeye returned to the spot where
his sympathies led him, with a force that no
ideal bond of union could destroy. He was
just in time to catch a parting look of the features of Uncas, whom the Delawares were already inclosing in his last vestment of skins.
They paused to permit the longing and lingering gaze of the sturdy woodsman, and when
it was ended, the body was enveloped, never
to be unclosed again. Then came a procession
like the other, and the whole nation was collected about the temporary grave of the chief–
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temporary, because it was proper that, at some
future day, his bones should rest among those
of his own people.
The movement, like the feeling, had been simultaneous and general. The same grave expression of grief, the same rigid silence, and
the same deference to the principal mourner,
were observed around the place of interment
as have been already described. The body was
deposited in an attitude of repose, facing the
rising sun, with the implements of war and of
the chase at hand, in readiness for the final journey. An opening was left in the shell, by which
it was protected from the soil, for the spirit to
communicate with its earthly tenement, when
necessary; and the whole was concealed from
the instinct, and protected from the ravages of
the beasts of prey, with an ingenuity peculiar to
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the natives. The manual rites then ceased and
all present reverted to the more spiritual part
of the ceremonies.
Chingachgook became once more the object
of the common attention. He had not yet spoken, and something consolatory and instructive was expected from so renowned a chief
on an occasion of such interest. Conscious of
the wishes of the people, the stern and selfrestrained warrior raised his face, which had
latterly been buried in his robe, and looked
about him with a steady eye. His firmly compressed and expressive lips then severed, and
for the first time during the long ceremonies
his voice was distinctly audible. “Why do my
brothers mourn?” he said, regarding the dark
race of dejected warriors by whom he was environed; “why do my daughters weep? that
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a young man has gone to the happy huntinggrounds; that a chief has filled his time with
honor? He was good; he was dutiful; he was
brave. Who can deny it? The Manitou had
need of such a warrior, and He has called him
away. As for me, the son and the father of Uncas, I am a blazed pine, in a clearing of the pale
faces. My race has gone from the shores of the
salt lake and the hills of the Delawares. But
who can say that the serpent of his tribe has
forgotten his wisdom? I am alone–”
“No, no,” cried Hawkeye, who had been
gazing with a yearning look at the rigid features of his friend, with something like his own
self-command, but whose philosophy could
endure no longer; “no, Sagamore, not alone.
The gifts of our colors may be different, but
God has so placed us as to journey in the same
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path. I have no kin, and I may also say, like
you, no people. He was your son, and a redskin by nature; and it may be that your blood
was nearer–but, if ever I forget the lad who has
so often fou’t at my side in war, and slept at my
side in peace, may He who made us all, whatever may be our color or our gifts, forget me!
The boy has left us for a time; but, Sagamore,
you are not alone.”
Chingachgook grasped the hand that, in the
warmth of feeling, the scout had stretched
across the fresh earth, and in an attitude
of friendship these two sturdy and intrepid
woodsmen bowed their heads together, while
scalding tears fell to their feet, watering the
grave of Uncas like drops of falling rain.
In the midst of the awful stillness with which
such a burst of feeling, coming as it did, from
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the two most renowned warriors of that region,
was received, Tamenund lifted his voice to disperse the multitude.
“It is enough,” he said. “Go, children of the
Lenape, the anger of the Manitou is not done.
Why should Tamenund stay? The pale faces
are masters of the earth, and the time of the
red men has not yet come again. My day has
been too long. In the morning I saw the sons
of Unamis happy and strong; and yet, before
the night has come, have I lived to see the last
warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans.”
1124